Procheta Mukherjee Olson

If you look hard enough these pencil scratches will start to look like a man 

Is the negative space of the work I make, the messy palette? Is it the oil paint that has made its way into a careless cut on my finger? Perhaps it is the old set of dentures, or the radio, or the dead flower, or all three as they wait patiently while I ignore them.

I was doing so well painting small with my bare eyes. Even my vision, i.e. my prescription, was so kind as to adjust itself, forcing me to get new glasses. But everyone kept insisting I should spare a thought to the future and get myself a solid magnifier. So here it is at last.