There are no faces here. No figures. No symbols to decode.
No big idea waiting to be uncovered.
Just paint. Line. Mess. Tension. Colour. Noise.
This piece, like so many of mine, means absolutely nothing.
And that, is the point.
We live in a world that demands clarity, narrative, cohesion.
What does this mean? What is it saying?
What are you trying to say?
But what if the answer is: nothing at all.
The work simply is. Not because it has meaning, but because it doesn’t.
It’s a resistance to meaning, to neatness, to explanation.
I named it “I Don’t Like Camomile Tea” for the same reason.
It’s true. It’s mundane. And it means absolutely nothing.
That’s where the freedom is.