Storm
This series begins with a sky that will not settle. It’s a world built from pressure, turbulence, and the colour of uncertainty. The images borrow the language of painting — not to imitate it, but to fracture it. Brushstrokes become weather systems. Light becomes a symptom. The sky folds into the sea; the sea rises into cloud. Each surface trembles between creation and collapse — a field of energy suspended in endless cycles of digital motion. Like Peder Balke’s Tempest, they are not depictions of storms but psychological equivalents: fragments of emotion suspended in atmosphere.
The weather outside, the weather inside — sometimes they blur. Storm is about how depression feels when it moves: heavy, cold, agitated, unrelenting, and restless with energy. These works explore storms as both atmosphere and psychology — the visible shape of invisible moods, the slow mechanics of a mind under pressure. The sea and the sky are mirrors here, each a language for instability. Black suggests darkness and a sense of foreboding; blood reds flare like warning lights. Elsewhere the palette narrows to greys, silvers, inky blues, and the tender colours of bruises — the world desaturated, as though drained of feeling. The surfaces behave like thought: they thicken, split, unfold, and reform.
Created through collaboration with AI, these synthographs — images formed from language and intuition — replace pigment with pixels yet insist on the physical truth of paint: layered, greasy, and alive with texture. They suggest scale rather than declare it — images that could fill a wall or a mind, visceral and impossible to ignore. Each one is an environment more than an image: an experience of endurance. Storm is not about weather at all, but about the persistence of feeling, the quiet that follows thunder, and the air that never fully clears — the calm that exists only because chaos came first. The result is neither landscape nor abstraction, but something between: a psychic topography where weather and mood are indistinguishable.
