Small worlds,
one line at a time.

Small worlds in paint marker — organic, cell-like forms crowded with dots, waves, spirals and tiny flowers. Each one is built the same way and never the same twice, one line at a time with no sketch underneath, every shape filled until it is full. Each carries the title Basia gave it, and its own story in her words.

Each piece is built the same way and never the same twice: a single wandering outline divides the paper into chambers, and every chamber is then filled — dots, ric-rac, stripes, spirals, the occasional bloom — until the whole surface hums. Nothing is planned to represent anything, and yet faces, tides, gardens and creatures keep surfacing on their own.

The titles come after the paintings, not before. Basia names each one for what surfaced while she was making it — the Maiden and the Crone, Inanna returned whole, a Bodhisattva mid-awakening, a River to surrender to. Every piece here carries a story in her own words about the day it was made.