This piece has all the ingredients which please the eye: singing colours (those baby blues and yellows are somehow shockingly mocked by the genuine egg colour), a sense of scale, contrasting texture, mystery, and architectural illusion. Yet for me it has a stern resoluteness about it. Perhaps that pointy-stinger beak, and the serious owl-face of the upper portion, along with the downward expansion of the base speak of this. There is also that impossible egg, at once nurtured by the bird, and simultaneously trapped in a bottle.
This piece has all the ingredients which please the eye: singing colours (those baby blues and yellows are somehow shockingly mocked by the genuine egg colour), a sense of scale, contrasting texture, mystery, and architectural illusion. Yet for me it has a stern resoluteness about it. Perhaps that pointy-stinger beak, and the serious owl-face of the upper portion, along with the downward expansion of the base speak of this. There is also that impossible egg, at once nurtured by the bird, and simultaneously trapped in a bottle.