I came across this lovely old plaster framed mirror in my travels. How could I resist? It called out from across the room and demanded that I weave a little colourful magic onto its surface.
My spider senses told me a mysterious creature lay beneath, waiting to be rescued. If I was patient, and teased it out gently, something ethereal would emerge.
My new friend and I now swap notes on the blemishes and scars that only age can inflict. The little chips and cracks that we all fall victim to as life progresses, and experience grows. The idea that perfection is absolute is simply smoke and mirror. There is no such thing - and if there were, I suspect it would be an anticlimax.
45cm x 70cm | 4.8kg
Old plaster frame with small cracks and blemishes (just like the artist)