Satellite Sanctuary #1

The view is the artist's own residence in Singapore, seen whole. Lines of latitude and longitude cross the surface, faint and exact, marking a position without naming it. Ink moves through hanji the way water moves when it adapts rather than yields — settling, gathering, finding its shape inside a boundary it did not draw but has come to inhabit. Along the edge, the blade's triangles run in a row, each cut the same, each tear its own — reason's hand meeting paper that will only partly obey. The paper drinks the surface; the aluminum surrounding it resists, holds its line, ages by no measure but its own. Where the ink ends, the frame continues — not as a boundary but as an extension, a finite dwelling reaching outward into a structure that does not end. Abstraction, not simplification: the building does not disappear into geometry, it is distilled into it.