6 August 2026
Core: a painting that began after seeing an apple core on the ground by the Thames in Woolwich. Bent, warped, dried, bitten, twisted, chewed, skeletal. And a housing for some small insects. Brilliant yellow—orange—red gradient, from left to right. Its stem stem hovered off the pavement, but the tip was bent into a right angle at the end as if it had met the ground first when it fell.
At midnight on Friday, one of the flats in the blocks just on the other side of our backyard fence burned down. There were some crackling sounds and pops, a woman yelled “what have you done,” a family rushed out of the front door, and the place exploded. Hono and I watched in silence from my room as glass shattered, flames danced up stairs, windows became incandescent, and a cloud of black smoke mushroomed into the night sky.