This is the pull where nothing was held back. The ink is full, the pressure committed, the grain pushing to every edge of the paper as if the slab refused to be contained. What reads in the earlier prints as structure reads here as force — the same 82 rings, but darker, closer, more insistent. White ray lines cut across the field in every direction, the wood's internal geometry asserting itself through the ink. The crack runs through the center and barely registers against everything surrounding it. Of the series, this one takes up the most space — on the wall and in the room.
