Oris - Abstract Black and White Butterfly Photography, Limited Edition of 20 2025

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From june and oris collection - oris as he steps inside, the air thickens, pressing in like an unseen weight. … Read more From june and oris collection - oris as he steps inside, the air thickens, pressing in like an unseen weight. The room hums with movement, bodies shifting, voices murmuring, the clatter of distant plates. A queue stretches ahead, long and unyielding, a system to be followed. He takes his place, waiting, watching. Near the bar, someone sways, unsteady, out of rhythm with the order of things. Their posture bends unnaturally, hands gripping the metal rail, body tilting and pulling against gravity’s hold. The sight unsettles him. Something about their movement is too loose, too wrong, disrupting the measured pulse of the room. Before he can stop himself, the words leave his mouth, sharp, foreign, heavier than he intended. The figure turns, eyes shadowed, and meets him with an expression neither angered nor afraid, only knowing. A few words are thrown back, a reflection of his own discord, then they are gone. Oris watches as they vanish into the crowd, unnoticed, untouched. He glances behind him, expecting to see the weight of his voice lingering in the eyes of others, but no one stirs. He steps forward. Then the floor beneath him tilts. His fingers grasp for something steady, but the bar feels distant, slick beneath his grip. The weight inside him shifts, pulling his balance off-center. A cold sweat breaks across his skin. His body sways, his knees loosen, his stance no longer his own. The world blurs at its edges. He is moving wrong. He is standing wrong. And then, the voice. Sharp, heavy, cutting through the air behind him. It strikes his ears, stopping him cold. It gnaws at him, pressing into his skull like an echo returning too soon. He turns, dark clouds forming in his vision, pulled by the weight of recognition. The voice, he knows it. The clipped frustration. The edge sharpened by something deeper than irritation. It was himself. A second ago. And now, he stands exactly where the swaying figure had stood. Realization cracks through him like thunder. The weight pressing on him, the trembling in his limbs, the air thick with something just out of reach, it was never the world closing in. It was him. Carving out the storm he feared. Letting it coil around him, feeding it with every word, every unsteady breath. - written by ugne pouwell printed on archival hahnemühle photo rag baryta paper. Signed both front and back with certificate of authenticity. Limited edition of 20. Photograph is shipped fast and flat in secure thick cardboard packaging. Artist biography: ugne is a lithuanian fine art photographer based in london. Her work explores the intricate systems and subtle beauty of nature, finding inspiration in its quiet resilience and ephemeral grace. By capturing small, often-overlooked moments, ugne transforms natural elements into visual poetry, reflecting on the delicate balance of life. This piece is attributed to the mentioned designer/maker. It has no attribution mark and no
official proof of authenticity,
however it is well documented in design history. I take full responsibility for any authenticity



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