“You + Me” frames human connection as an experiment. Forty-eight acrylic rectangles are arranged in a strict grid, each holding a glowing green organic trace beneath it. Every mark feels biological, like a cultured sample observed under laboratory light. Two-letter initials label most of them, reducing identity to coded fragments, as if individuality could be archived, tested, and compared.

Some rectangles are crossed out in black marker. Excluded. Incompatible. Unviable. The gesture is abrupt and clinical, suggesting decisions made from above, outside the awareness of the sample itself. Within this controlled system, uniqueness exists, yet it is filtered, evaluated, and sometimes erased.

Among the field of green, two adjacent samples burn in luminous orange. They interrupt the pattern. They belong together visually before we understand why. Their proximity implies affinity, a pairing discovered through trial, error, and unseen criteria. Chemistry becomes both literal and metaphorical.

The grid speaks of order and containment. The glowing paint, however, resists uniformity. Each form spreads differently, shaped by forces beyond the rigid frame that surrounds it. You + Me reflects on the idea that compatibility is not purely romantic destiny, but a process of exposure, interaction, and construction. Like bacteria in a dish, we respond to environments, to pressure, to proximity.

The work questions how much of the connection is organic and how much is engineered. It suggests that finding one another is rarely accidental. It is shaped by systems, by invisible algorithms, by labour and persistence. Under the sterile surface of classification, something deeply human continues to glow.