Under the Table, 2026

We go through periods without realising it and only afterwards do we mentally cut that block of time out, extract it and say to ourselves, 'Hey — I can still taste it.' That taste is the vanity of effort, like tackling a category 3 climb while fending off the feeling of 'what's the point' with every pedal stroke. So, as with this painting, I kept zigzagging and the broom wagon was on my heels with every brushstroke. Yet I had the consolation, after all that effort, of arriving at something that holds together and, if you have an eye for detail, pipe smoke turning into twisted wood.