Mnemonıc unfolds as a silent scream across a surface stripped of identity. It speaks without a face, without form only rupture, trace, and texture.
In this visceral composition, the absence becomes presence. What is unseen cries out in color, texture and fracture. The bruised tones and layered distortions do not depict a body. They embody the pressure of having one of being one in a world that tries to erase it.
Mnemonıc does not document the past. It resists erasure. It stains. It scars. It breathes. This is not abstraction. It is a voice made visible.