Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
In the velvet abyss of a digital night, where the grid of infinity pulses purple and deep indigo, a rock band awakens in lines of luminous fire.
Twin towers of speakers rise like ancient monoliths, cloaked in sapphire wireframe, their edges kissed by electric jade—silent sentinels humming with the promise of thunder.
On the left, a Stratocaster dreams in molten cyan and chartreuse, its slender neck a streak of starlight, body woven from threads of neon that shiver with latent song.
At the heart of this spectral stage, the drum kit blooms like a mechanical lotus under crimson and azure veins: cymbals flare into radiant starbursts, each golden spoke exploding outward in ecstatic shards of light, while the snares and toms orbit in intricate, breathing spheres of wire.
A second guitar, warmer, more shadowed—Les Paul soul rendered in ember-red and twilight blue—leans against the rightmost amp, whispering secrets of distortion and desire.
And rising tall between them, the lone microphone stands as a silvered beacon, its head crowned in ruby glow, waiting for the first breath of a voice to shatter the silence.
Behind it all, the void erupts in glorious chaos: vast blossoms of turquoise and magenta radiance bloom across the horizon, fireworks of pure code, eternal encores frozen in mid-burst.
This is no mere stage—it is the skeleton of sound itself, stripped to glowing bones, suspended in cyber-dreamtime, where every string, every strike, every note yet to be played trembles on the edge of becoming.
A symphony of light and lattice, forever on the verge of the loudest, most beautiful scream.
Technical notes.
Inkjet print on paper. 7-13/16” H x 11-13/16” W. Signed by the artist on the back. Open edition.
In the velvet abyss of a digital night, where the grid of infinity pulses purple and deep indigo, a rock band awakens in lines of luminous fire.
Twin towers of speakers rise like ancient monoliths, cloaked in sapphire wireframe, their edges kissed by electric jade—silent sentinels humming with the promise of thunder.
On the left, a Stratocaster dreams in molten cyan and chartreuse, its slender neck a streak of starlight, body woven from threads of neon that shiver with latent song.
At the heart of this spectral stage, the drum kit blooms like a mechanical lotus under crimson and azure veins: cymbals flare into radiant starbursts, each golden spoke exploding outward in ecstatic shards of light, while the snares and toms orbit in intricate, breathing spheres of wire.
A second guitar, warmer, more shadowed—Les Paul soul rendered in ember-red and twilight blue—leans against the rightmost amp, whispering secrets of distortion and desire.
And rising tall between them, the lone microphone stands as a silvered beacon, its head crowned in ruby glow, waiting for the first breath of a voice to shatter the silence.
Behind it all, the void erupts in glorious chaos: vast blossoms of turquoise and magenta radiance bloom across the horizon, fireworks of pure code, eternal encores frozen in mid-burst.
This is no mere stage—it is the skeleton of sound itself, stripped to glowing bones, suspended in cyber-dreamtime, where every string, every strike, every note yet to be played trembles on the edge of becoming.
A symphony of light and lattice, forever on the verge of the loudest, most beautiful scream.
Technical notes.
Inkjet print on paper. 7-13/16” H x 11-13/16” W. Signed by the artist on the back. Open edition.
