Cosmogony of the Stroke

Entropy I imagines the universe at the scale of its own unravelling. Bright, cratered forms rise like fragments of matter still carrying their own light, while white gestures cut through the darkness like fault lines, the last visible traces of a structure pulling apart. Between them, black space expands, patient and irreversible.

The painting follows a simple cosmic law: as space grows, light dilutes across an ever wider distance, and darkness gradually gains ground. What began as radiant becomes distant, faint, then silent. Entropy is not violence here but a slow drift, matter and light drawing further from each other with every passing moment.

Named to open a possible series, Entropy I holds the first instant of that drift: still legible, still luminous, already leaning toward the dark it cannot return from.