Three Thresholds
 

The word threshold has always felt more like sensation than structure to me—something you don’t quite see until you step across it. It isn’t fixed or measurable, but it shifts around you like air when you get close to something that moves you. That’s how I began to understand this exhibition.

​

I didn’t start with a theme. I didn’t try to force a common language onto these three artists. Instead, I waited—watched how their works unfolded, how they held space, how they asked to be seen. Slowly, what emerged wasn’t a shared style or subject, but three distinct modes of perception. One moves inward: abstract, rhythmic, attuned to the breath of emotion. Another pulses outward, vivid and layered, engaging memory, community, and inherited myth. The third drifts in and out of reality, with figures that seem imagined but feel familiar—like echoes from a dream you only half-remember.

​

Rather than merging these approaches, I’ve placed them side by side. Not to compare, but to let them watch one another. To let them form a space where difference doesn’t divide, but resonates. Because in life—as in art—we rarely experience things as neatly unified. More often, we are crossing between states: between self and other, thought and feeling, here and elsewhere.

​

Three Thresholds is an invitation to pause at those crossings. To pay attention to how we perceive, how we respond, and how, in looking, we might begin to see ourselves—again.