Kryptos

I work within a lineage that understands the circle not as a symbol, but as a primary truth.

My practice begins where geometry begins: with a single point, placed deliberately, and a single motion, repeated with care. Like Euclid, I treat the circle as a relationship rather than an object — a field defined by constancy, balance, and return. Like the anonymous geometers and monks before me, I trust repetition as a path to insight.

I draw circles not to invent form, but to reveal what already exists. This places my work in quiet dialogue with artists and thinkers who approached the circle as a site of knowledge: Giotto, for whom the circle proved mastery without explanation; Leonardo, who located the human between the square and the circle; Hilma af Klint and Kandinsky, who understood circular form as a spiritual instrument rather than an abstraction; and the countless unnamed hands that built mandalas, calendars, and cosmologies from the same simple act.

My process is intentionally limited. With each circle, I inhale to place the compass point and exhale to draw. The tools do not change. The rules remain consistent. What evolves is perception.

Through accumulation, the drawings become records of attention — evidence of time spent returning to center. Complexity emerges not through invention, but through fidelity. The work resists narrative and instead documents a condition: focus sustained long enough for structure to appear.

I consider these drawings less as images and more as residues of practice. They are not representations of unity; they are the result of repeatedly choosing it.