This glorious chromophilic photograph doesn't need anything but as a painter, it's hard to keep my hands off it. The thing is perfectly segmented. The blowsy putty-coloured, inchoate openness at the far left is almost comically trepidacious as a (left-to-right) beginning. Right after that, the eye empties into a passage of calligraphic bravado, after which it encounters a small gallery where an absurdly engaging picture of two Siamese apples (joined at the fullness of their curves)--hot red on hot pink--is surmounted by what I choose to see as a fine blue industry-scape. I like the serpentine cable coiling along the bottom. I like the container of trash. And I dote upon the livid, electro-lime green exit hall at the far right.
