Loop
Part of Double Layers, a story told in sky and skin, code and memory.
Keywords: Sleep Became Water
Media:
5x5 archival pigment print on 7x7.5 Hahnemühle German Etching paper with hand-torn edges (trimmed bottom edge);
Dye-sublimation print on ChromaLuxe Matte Maple panel (7x7 on 8x10)
Image Description:
A gentle composite of two visual elements: the fold of a bedsheet and the waves of Mutiny Bay. At first glance, it appears to be a tranquil waterscape, but the texture, depth, and dissolving edges hint at a deeper unrest. The sky evaporates into softness while a nearly invisible digital interface — a conversation bubble — pulses at the surface. Three faint dots wait mid-message. But no words arrive. Instead, the overlay shows the absence of language — as if something important was said, then healed out of view. The result is a near-silence that speaks. The composite is intentional: the bed becomes sea, and the body drifts somewhere between.
Statement of Intent and Personal Connection:
Loop is a visual and emotional reflection on a time when I couldn’t sleep. My bed felt like it was becoming the ocean — restless, wide, and impossible to anchor in. I made this image during a stretch of insomnia where I kept waiting for a message that never came. The panel version of this piece uses a dye-sublimation process on a wood panel with pronounced grain, which interacts with the image itself — obscuring the clouds and adding a new kind of texture. The grain is part of the image’s story now. The etching print has been hand-torn on all sides, but the bottom edge is trimmed — a new boundary formed, marking a shift in how I present my work. The digital interface — the Apple text bubbles — are layered onto the surface, gently pulsing, building anticipation. One message was received. One was sent. Both were erased with the Healing brush. For the first time in the series, there is no visible text. That emptiness offers both tension and relief.
Emotional Response:
Loop evokes the slow ache of repetition. It’s about the feeling of trying — again — and again — to understand what remains after communication fails. There is no clarity here, but there is care. The softness is complicated by the woodgrain, which adds a resistance to the calm. The dot-dot-dot creates a rhythm: not of speech, but of potential — unfulfilled, suspended. This image offers space for viewers to breathe. To project. To feel the pulse of something they, too, might never say.
Summary of Finishing Choices and Viewer Experience:
The weight of the etching paper, with its softened but intentional edges, offers a grounded fragility — the kind you want to hold carefully. The trimmed edge introduces a personal boundary — a decision made after much repetition. The panel print, with its warped grain and dreamy surface, feels solid yet untouchable. The viewer may feel distanced at first, then drawn closer by the message that isn’t there. This piece asks for patience. And rewards quiet attention. It leaves you with a pause — one that might feel familiar.
Let’s move onto my impressions of Loop.
Let’s start with the panel print of Loop. It’s an image called Sleep Became Water. It’s a composite of the fold of a sheet and Mutiny Bay. It describes a time when I couldn’t sleep. The bed became the sea during that time, so to speak. For the first time we’re seeing a panel print of a composite image. I also used a panel that had very wavy grain. The grain obscures the soft clouds that the image evaporates into.
For the etching print, the hand torn edges express themselves differently. This is because the bottom edge has been hand trimmed. We’re seeing a new choice being made in the presentation, a new boundary at the foundation of the image.
The digital overlay of this image features the Apple text interface. The dot dot dots are lightly pulsing building the anticipation. But it’s frustrating because this time there are no words. One has been received and sent but they have been crudely erased through the post processing technique of Healing. This image unfolds upon itself over and over again. The image also is the first time we’re not seeing actual text. It’s a bit of a relief, it gives the viewer a space in the image to stand.