Andrew Cranston

I was feeling terrible.

And then somebody burst through the door and said, the Americans have dropped a bomb on Japan.

Oh, my word.

War's over.

And, you know, the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up, you know, because it just somehow kind of gave you access to a moment in time in a totally different way than it was in Iowa in this kind of bit.

It's like, you know, my God.

You know, things like that, you know, always, you know, interest me and sort of somehow stimulate me.

Yeah, you're so right.

It is history with a small h and it's...

you know, local things and, you know, what was happening in a particular place when something else was going on, you know, at the same time, you know, I think it's in that impossibility of really being in another place, you know.

Yes.

Yeah, that's right.

I mean, I think, you know, I'm sure this is the same for every artist, but painting is very circular in the kind of way that you come back to previous points in your thinking.

And so revisiting things, but also like things just re-emerging, you know, they feel altered.

Yeah.

I mean, there's this funny sometimes worry about meaning that people have.

You know, what does something mean or does it have significance?

And I've found that through use, through kind of repetitive use, but also like coming back to something and using, like you say, the fried eggs or something like that.

I mean, meaning's maybe the wrong word, but they take on a kind of weight or a sort of significance that you think.

It's funny, when I taught, we used to do these still lives with the first year students.