Signa

Signa shrinks an inner state to one sign. Each canvas holds a single form in the center and almost nothing else: a red double triangle, a yellow spiral between two dark hollows, a blue burst throwing off splinters, a black knot of strokes breaking outward on white. They are painted in dense, directed strokes of acrylic, most with texture paste.

The form keeps to one color against black or white, so nothing competes with it. They work closer to a totem than to a picture: they read at once, from across the room.