A classic still life composition with just the cheese omitted.
There is a passage from Proust about the author Bergotte, where he stands moments before his death in front of Vermeer's The View of Delft, whereby he becomes transfixed by a patch of yellow on a wall in the painting, causing him to reflect on how he never became the writer he should have been.
In my paintings I try and find that little patch of yellow.
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