Liminal Strata

Time doesn’t flow as a straight line—it folds, fragments, and drifts. We carry it as layers: ordered routines, chaotic memories, moments that vanish only to resurface years later. Liminal Strata is born from this shifting terrain. Each work is a blueprint of remembering. The structures you see are not buildings, but strata of time—sometimes clear, sometimes fractured, sometimes dissolving at the edges. They mirror how memory truly works: not as a perfect archive, but as a living pattern that keeps rewriting itself. But time is never evenly felt. An hour can dissolve in a second, while a second can stretch into an eternity. Our perception bends and distorts, refusing to match the steady ticks of the clock. 

Liminal Strata seeks to hold that distortion—the elastic, subjective weight of lived time—within its layered forms. For me, this project is deeply personal. After confronting my own mortality, time stopped feeling like abstraction—it became textured, fragile, alive. Coding these forms became a meditation, a way to hold onto what cannot be held, to trace the sediment of days and the silence between them. 

Liminal Strata does not offer answers. It invites you to wander. To see order collapse into chaos, and chaos reorganize into something new. To recognize your own shifting rhythms in the grids and gaps. It is a visual poetry of impermanence—a reminder that memory is never still, and that every trace continues to become.