Dwell turns away from rupture toward sustained presence. The works are stripped back to a narrow range of tones and gestures: fields of prepared paper marked by burned and stripped lines that run horizontally—and at times vertically—across the surface. These lines do not describe movement so much as duration, laid down slowly, deliberately, and without correction.

At a distance, the compositions appear still and meditative, almost architectural in their restraint. On closer inspection, a quieter intensity emerges. Burned, peeled, and stripped marks carry heat, pressure, and risk; textures accumulate where control falters and material asserts itself. Rather than depicting rest, Dwell insists on staying—holding tension without resolution and framing stillness as something earned.