Two women in the ring, the ropes cutting diagonally across the frame, the crowd reduced to pale faces in the dark below. One lands the punch, one absorbs it and both are exactly where they chose to be. That matters to me. The dignity of boxing is in the contract both fighters sign before the first bell: equal terms, agreed rules, witnesses. I find that clarity hard to locate in most other human interactions.

The colors don't apologize for themselves. Red gloves, red ropes, acid green against deep blue: this is a painting that knows it's a painting. Up close, the texture of the pastel on canvas gives the whole thing a physicality that suits the subject. The face of the fighter in green, mid-shout, is the emotional center.

She's not suffering. She's winning.