If you happen !!! Too stumble upon that part of the street you will find something tugging at your senses; the smell of delicate poverty arises from the gutters baked in paint fumes turning your head into a spin cycle of delirium and catastrophic confusion. One might say an ethereal delusion presides over that Unawarehouse. And if by chance one glimpses through the broken vision of its entrance you shall find words and truths hung by their neck as the hangman stands guard over the skeletons already packed away in his closet. Daytime begs night to be its companion as the brushstrokes torment the walls and lights beg for forgiveness. Canvases stand by awaiting orders form Mrs Crook and the paint rallies around organizing its troops, ordering them to stand by in serried anticipation.

Here’s a painting of the Mrs at The Unawarehouse. xxx