Domesticity limits.

I recently realised I had took a lot of photographs of sinks. I often deleted them. I took pictures of bowls of hair bleach, scissors, sponges. I wanted to draw the kitchen table – but with the exception of Bratby, Soutine and some of the morning-paper-French Leger table gits – domestic scenes could often just be a middle class cauliflower. The nice loaf of bread. Pictures I hated.

The idea is, let’s humour the domestico, and relish the everyday.

It’s similar with toys – when you have a kid. There are mini-lives going on when you’re not looking – plastic people living everywhere in miniature. There are figurines, brightly coloured, by the toilet, on top fo the tv, in the kettle. You find them in shoes, in bags, in toasters and drawers. It is another dimension. They exist. Oh but they need to be documented. This stuff is happening without our permission.

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