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Painted in November last year, inspired by my family’s sacred suburban ritual of curbside collection, this piece marks the beginning of the series - and the end of my patience. It’s a visual diary entry of that time (every year) when the kids set out with hope, a back pack, and a dream of finding two scooters… and returned with one broken bike, three half chewed dog toys, and a deep existential question: why is everything slightly damp? This painting is a tribute to the thrill of the hunt, the heartbreak of mismatched furniture, and the undeniable truth that this is not a Westfield.
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