Mixed Media
Acrylic Sheets, paper, stainless steel.

Accidents Never Happen riffs on the Blondie song’s sharp lyricism—“I never lied, and you never cried”— with a visual language of control and contrast. A field of red-hot squares pulses like a warning, breaking through the grid’s calm white structure. It’s the beat that slips, the emotion that escapes the system. The squares mark time, tension, restraint—false signals in a machine that doesn’t run. Warmth is boxed in, bordered by cold white and transparent clear clarity. The illusion of order cracks under layered transparencies. Like the song, the piece insists: accidents never happen— but what if the rupture was always part of the design?