Ameshin
Fluid forms and the chromatic ghosts left behind.
Things that wouldn't hold their shape
Thirteen pieces pulled from an ongoing study of faces caught mid-dissolve. Hover or focus a piece to watch it ripple the same distortion the work is made of.
雨心 means Rain Heart.
I work in digital paint, mostly portraits that refuse to finish becoming themselves.
The process usually starts with a face and ends somewhere stranger turbulence, marbling, and a slow drift of the color channels until the image splits into the rainbowed fringe you see at the edges of almost everything here. I'm less interested in a finished likeness than in the moment just before or just after one: a face arriving, or a face coming apart.
Recurring cast: nymphs, masks, moons, orb-eyed things that may or may not be kind.
Commissions, products and licensing
For prints, commissions, or anything else - reach out below.