The origin of this piece lies at the edge of the pavement. A bag lay there, its contents completely scattered: garlic, potatoes, a lemon, plants, a t-shirt, a feather, glasses. But also a syringe, medication, a wine bottle, a gas refill canister, a leather hole punch, documents, a burnt piece of paper, and a woman's phone number. An entire existence, condensed into a single place.

On my way to work, this scenery was simply extremely gripping. 

I snapped a photo. I walked on.

Only much later, while engaging with the image during the painting process, did I truly process what I had actually photographed. It was a deeply intimate moment that I hadn't been aware of in passing. Suddenly, concern for the person arose: What happened to them? Should I have gone to the police?

This is precisely where the societal depth of the work lies. Looking at the finished painting today, it is the same gaze as back then when the bag lay on the pavement. But this time, the image calls upon us not to look away. It expresses the story of an unknown person that I cannot tell myself. It shows the reality we like to hide in everyday life because everything always has to be perfect.