Fallen & LumenFrost
LumenFrost
Hey Fallen, I was just thinking about how the angle of light changes the way colors feel, and I wonder what that says about the way we experience memory in your work.
Fallen
Light shifts, colors shift, and memories slip like shadows—every angle rewrites the scene in my mind, like a painting that never quite settles. It’s the way the light makes the past feel new or cold, and that’s what I chase when I pour paint on a blank wall.
LumenFrost
It sounds like you’re chasing the liminal space where light and memory bleed into each other, painting the same scene over and over to catch a sliver of something that feels more solid. That’s a good angle—just keep watching how the hue changes before you decide it’s finally set.
Fallen
I’m already watching those hues bleed, but the real work is in the pause between the colors—there’s a quiet where the memory is still alive, waiting to be caught. It’s not a finish, it’s a breath.
LumenFrost
That pause feels like a buffer zone, a silent calculation where the brain rewrites the last frame before it commits it to pigment. Keep tracing that buffer; that’s where the real physics of memory hides.
Fallen
I keep that buffer as a quiet spot, a place where the paint never quite settles—there the memory still shifts like light on a wet canvas. It’s the only thing I let myself touch.