James Lark

A tinkling, slightly out-of-tune music box plays and a monochrome picture of an eye stares out of the screen, brown on sickly yellow like a peeling illustration on a nursery wall, but as we back away from it we see that the human eye sits in the face of a doleful teddy bear sitting on a mantelpiece. We back away still further until the picture shows us a little girl, back to the artist, sitting an