This series begins with a simple observation: faint lines remain after the water is gone.
Photographed at low tide, the tidal creeks had drained and the thin layer of water left between them froze. From above, the place becomes less identifiable as a landscape and more readable as a set of forms. What first appears as isolated traces gradually reveals a connected structure.
The lines branch, merge, and expand across the surface, suggesting networks rather than geography. They resemble organic systems, yet they are formed only by water, time, and repetition. At their most complex, the patterns describe the memory of movement rather than movement itself.
Toward the end, the lines soften and dissolve into texture, becoming barely visible. What remains is not the flow, but its residue — a quiet record of presence after motion has disappeared.
