Leaving Messages Without Explaining Them

I don’t believe art should explain itself.

Explanation closes doors.
Suggestion opens them.

When I leave a mark, I’m not sending instructions. I’m leaving evidence. Evidence that someone stood here once and felt something worth stopping for. The viewer’s job isn’t to understand—it’s to remember something of their own.

That’s why faces remain incomplete. Why cities blur into memory. Why stories trail off instead of resolving. Life doesn’t give us conclusions. It gives us impressions.

I trust the viewer enough not to finish the thought for them.

If you’re looking for clarity, this may frustrate you. If you’re looking for recognition, it may feel uncomfortably familiar.

That discomfort is where the ghost wakes up.

Art doesn’t save us. But it leaves signals. Small flares across time saying: I was here. You’re not alone in this feeling.

If another ghost finds it later, that’s enough.