Drawn from the artist’s unpublished novel of the same name, Penguin Island is both narrative and excavation — a crossing between text and image. These graphite-and-ink works trace the fragile seam between intimacy and fracture, between what binds and what unravels. Hands open into bone and clockwork. Faces dissolve into feathers, flowers, and shadowed memory. A kiss is split by a red thread — its cut as sharp as its tether — while a lone penguin, marked and silent, stands as witness.

The red thread runs throughout: symbol of fate, of bloodline and entanglement. It ties lovers and strangers, human and animal, body and mechanism, private myth and shared archetype. This first set marks the beginning of a larger cycle: the novel turned image, the image becoming myth.