The Egg and Tree

When I moved to Oxford, I rented a near barren house, the owner a typical bachelor. There was little style-just functionality. The house had an inordinate amount of insects. Giant spiders would scuttle across the lounge floor about 11pm at night. Moths would locate themselves high up near the alcove in the hallway and all manner of other horrible insecty things. I felt that I was a lodger in their abode.

Finding relief in my bedroom, the one room where human life was apparent and the insecty things didn't venture, I painted a lot, often from friday night right through to sunday in the late hours.

The visual that gave me the most pleasure was the egg in the tree. When I paint I see the visual before hand firmly imprinted in my mind's eye, then transfer this onto canvas. However the egg in the tree doesn't make any sense to me. I have no idea what it means, or where it comes from. It's a source of endless fascination and I draw it yet.