There is a painting I happened to drip yellow paint on. At first I was terribly upset, but then I started enjoying it. The trickle looked like a crack; it turned the flowers into a battered old backdrop, a backdrop with some flowers painted on it. I began playing with the crack, filling it out, wondering what might be visible behind it. I called it “behind the scene”.
On the surface, there was always an impeccably realistic world, but underneath, behind the paper, lurked something different, something mysterious or abstract.
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