Burning It is an oil pastel drawing on black paper where the figure and the “crown” almost fuse into one weather system. A nude male body stands in the lower center, arms crossed tight over the chest. The pose is defensive and tender at the same time—self-embrace as shield, self-embrace as need. The black paper isn’t just a background; it’s night, heat, and silence.

Above the shoulders, the head disappears into a dense, flame-like mass. Yellows and ochres climb upward in looping, smoky strokes, while reds, violets, greens, and electric blues gather around the sides like burning flowers or a storm of petals. The color feels alive and unstable, as if it’s still moving.

The body is drawn with warm browns and pale highlights that catch on muscle and rib, with cool outlines that vibrate against the dark ground. The contrast makes skin feel both physical and haunted—present, but half swallowed by light.

In the context of a gay artist’s work, Burning It reads as desire under pressure: intimacy turned inward, beauty turning volatile, the private body meeting something bigger than it can hold. The piece doesn’t illustrate a story. It holds a state—heat, fear, want, release—and lets the viewer recognize it.