Acrylic on canvas, 61 × 76 cm. Signed & numbered print available now.
An argument with the subconscious over questions that have no answers. Trying to define the complexities of love and failing at it miserably.
You go looking for something solid, and every attempt slides off it. The more precisely you try to say what it is, the further away it gets. And because it's your own mind you're arguing with, there's nowhere else to take the question, the only answer that comes back is circular, and it gives you nothing you didn't already have.
The feeling you're left with when the definition resists itself, and the emptiness when the words run out.
That love is all there is, is all we know of love.
Inspired by the lyrics of “Miss Understood” by Headache.