Far along the Skeleton Coast, beyond maps and transmission, the desert fractures into color. Among San cultures, certain places in the desert are considered the birthplace of life, or the first paths of animals. Appearing like other worlds, slow chromatic inscriptions, layers of copper, salt, quartz, and oxidized stone stain the dunes with improbable blues, pinks, and burning reds. These mineral lines and strata rise through the surface like buried memory, staining the earth in slow, silent tides. Roaming through the landscape, color emerges as evidence, like a quiet pulse beneath the skin of the desert. There was also a sound, barely there: mineral crystals pushed by the wind, rustling over the surface. A dry, resonance, almost like breath. In Chromatic Fields, I felt the horizon dissolve into abstraction, and the land become a living archive of light, erosion, and origin.