The “white room”, “face-shot”, whatever you want to call it—there’s no feeling quite like blasting through a self-induced cloud of cold smoke powder! Temporarily blinded by bliss, unable to take a breath, your endorphins cranking—if you’ve been there you know there’s nothing short of a crime you’ll do to get that feeling again and again. These charcoal sketches are part of a series emphasizing the negative space allowing the paper background to envelope the rider, exploding from within the coveted “white room”.