My own artistic misadventures often involve painting a piece almost to completion before executing a series of missteps, all while playing the dual roles of passive observer—helplessly groaning at the ensuing melee—and active, inadvertent saboteur.

The digital works, while more successful, tend to accumulate an intense level of detail, much of it rendered in an outdated 3D program buckling under the weight of node arrays attempting to simulate PBR-based materials introduced in later versions. As a result, the timeline for completion can stretch across months. During that time, each piece often acquires additional meaning thanks to current events.

This leaves me with a choice: explain that the images have nothing to do with prescience, or withhold their release until the world settles into a fleeting sense of normalcy. As for this piece, the explanation is simple—it is yet another commentary on commuter culture, not unlike Commuter Fish, The Secret of Flight, and Raffi, Another Day at the Office II. Nothing more.

If you’re curious, feel free to drop me a line for details.