In Rhys Trussler’s paintings small images of building facades are treated with glazes creating a nocturnal intimacy; these are juxtaposed with larger scale works of every day existence, which are by contrast rampantly and loosely produced.
Together the solitary amber light of a window becomes an invitation to fantasy, to look illicitly with the minds imaginings. Clothes and objects, suggestive of life, gender and scenarios are abandoned leaving only flayed husks. Upon closer inspection the edifices of the buildings are in decay, having lost their original grandeur to neglect and times elements. What may have first appeared as glimpses of a charged world of opulence, vitality and youth are in truth memento mori.
