Within this sphere, a Varmint, with two black eyes, pulls itself from the ground. As if bathed in a combination of tar, smog, and lightning, it’s worm-like form moves forward.
Varmints are beasts, wild animals. This creature wanders the recesses of my mind, but what does it feed on? A cavity appears in it’s chest.
It is through editing and contemplating the paintings I produce that the world and characters emerge. I can begin to contemplate parts of my psyche that need nurturing. Akin to reading the inkblots in a Rorschach test, I can recognise myself in the shapes I create.