Oil paiting. A woman with octopus tentacle hair in a purple dress combs herself with a seashell before a mirror, while a toad watches from the vanity table among pots of cosmetics and hair brushes. They are surrounded by greenery. In the distance, billowing clouds and an agricultural landscape.

The rooster

People who know me – and my history with my car, the quasi-legendary Bunnymobile – know I have a history with driving and chickens.

Last year in July I have been struck by a driver in a lorry who claimed he was trying to avoid running over a chicken in the middle of the road. The mystery bird was never seen again.
So, chickens became a bit of a spirit animal of mine, together with the rabbit and the snake. (This is beginning to sound like a Chinese zodiac thing, though I doubt anyone will ever swerve off the road to try to avoid running over a dragon with their car.)

This painting, however, was made a long time before that, while I was trying to acquaint myself with oil paints once again after a few stints in the past, the first over 20 years ago.
Interestingly, the emergence of generative AI images made me do this. I will not go in depth here about the ethical problems bound to genAI and its humongous energy consumption. Others have done it before me and much better than I ever could.
Suffice to say my reaction was to go back to art that you can touch and that has a unique presence in the material world.

Oh, and we have a 10-year-old chicken free roaming in the garden.

A small white hen in green grass with some brown leaves on the ground.

Oil on canvas

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