The sink in the kitchen was nearly deep enough to bathe in, and it clung to the wall, with gleaming pipes exposed below. I was impressed by its girth, and the glow of its sparkling white porcelain.
Each morning my grandmother would stand at that sink, and run the hot water until it rushed steaming from the tap. She’d then fill a tall glass, pour half into a cereal bowl, over a biscuit of shredded wheat, and drink the rest.
This excerpt is taken from the book “Holding Her Hand”, where the artist makes a personal commentary on each of the paintings. To read the full commentaries, the book is available for purchase.