Two identical fields of rings. Neither one holds a single curve of the kind you are watching.
Twenty-seven flat checkerboards, stacked like lenses and each a little larger than the last. The sphere is supplied by habit.
Every stripe is ruled perfectly upright. Only the seams between the bands step sideways, four times a second.
Sixty spokes turn one way; seventy-two and fifty-four turn the other. The petals belong to none of them.
Twelve strips of ruled paper, leaning left and right in turn. The shadow in each fold is a difference of two pixels in the weight of a line.
The last work is not on the screen. It is made on your retina, glows brighter than white, and lasts about as long as a breath.