specks

Specks of surprises by Chen Forng-shean from here.



Monsieur Creme, chestnut and gouache, 2007

When I was in school I also made very small things, see here. This is what I wrote about that work.



The never-ending evidence of everyday life, A decimal point existence.



Pretending to be the crumbs scraped off burnt toast, Jumping in and out of the work, no bigger than a flea.



I fall in love with the speck of green beside me in a field of yellowed paper, A bigger existence disguised as small.



The intimacy of looking, Nothing is without an identity.



The work is a reminder of my smallness.



I like to imagine looking at the world like this. Everything is something. A piece that matters, even in its smallness.