Everything shifted here. The ink reads differently against it: darker, earthier, older. The grain moves like weather across the surface, turbulent in the upper field where the ink is heaviest, then pulling downward into a slow vortex at the center. Knot voids scatter across the composition like debris — small white openings in the dark, each one marking where a branch once was. The crack cuts diagonally through the upper right, sharp and unambiguous. This tree came down in a storm. Of all twelve prints, this one remembers it most clearly.
