Tam Tang

An orange octopus with wide, worried eyes floats in the middle of a rust-coloured field, two of its arms wrapped around a small dark teapot as if it has just found it. The ground is spattered and stained in shades of orange and brown, so the creature seems to hang in weather rather than water.

It is a quiet, funny painting. Nothing is happening except a creature holding an object it does not understand, and the whole surface is given over to that one small moment.