Black water rises-then collapses.
A movement both fragile and infinite.
Through a choreography of ink and sound, Brunnen reflects on the elusive nature of form and meaning. The work breathes in silence. It pulses in rhythm.
Not meant to be read, but to be felt.
A presence without language. A trace without end.
The material-ink-escapes its traditional function of conveying words. Instead, it becomes memory in motion, echoing absence and transformation.
It rises only to fall, falls only to rise again- a cycle suspended between visibility and dissolution.