In Avalon, the sun is a black opal. Avalon is a space in which metaphysics and internal emotions are explored in billowy streaks of lava, salmon, sapphire, and gold. Scattered across biomorphic and geometric forms, the cones of your eyes bend to take in a levitating constellation of color. Remember, when the universe blew up, the stars broke into pieces and landed on Avalon. Notice the repetition, an obsessive fixation with buried patterns. Even the expansive arrangement overhead acts as the greatest portrait you’ve ever dreamed of or perhaps it’s the perfect hallucinogen. In Avalon, you see your grandmother in the sky, your old dog, Apollo’s torso, a pile of turtles. There is no horizon, but merely soft layers covered in waves of light, achingly alive.