Details.

Black & silver outliner paint on glass. Difficult to photograph in colour, I’m afraid.

It’s roughly based on this Chinese painted scroll, but I turned it into a snowstorm and replaced the little elderly philosopher with a woman vaguely inspired by this woodblock, …I feel a little uneasy about mixing them but this is my goddamn bathroom window and I don’t want that dude watching me shower. In my head the woman is a scholar-poet composing flattering verse about my fish-belly skin when she’s not busy watching the storm and pondering her strange world of boiling seas and mangled perspective.

I will probably die with this painting unfinished. In fact, I will probably be crushed to death when the then-two-foot-thick layer of crusty oil paint weighing down the surface of the canvas finally cleaves away like an Arctic ice shelf breaking, and they’ll find me crumpled underneath, palette knife and unfeasibly tiny paintbrush still clutched in my stiffening fingers. 

Work perpetually in progress.

Oil and sundry on cotton. 100cm x 100cm.