What is told here is not one story, but a myriad of small tales
Central motifs from his oeuvre are repeated: he recycles his skeleton, a very literal deconstruction of the artistic ‘aura’, and a concrete symbol of what we will all become in the end. There is the repetition of the blanket, already central to an early piece like “Bed”; here, though, it is as white as a shroud. The bright orange and red sunshades, so typical of the sunny South, are life-affirming, like the bicycle’s ‘wheel of life’. The wonderful clash of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus with a profane dog in a car at sunset, the soccer shirts with their colourful patchwork of numbers, and the soup-cans of everyday life.
