The Three Fates are remodelled as shrouded ballerinas pirouetting in suspension. As the legendary agents of predestination, they determined sequentially how mortal threads might be spun together and ultimately severed.

With the looms recused, the weavers emerge spontaneously from a largely featureless primordium. The muted auburn and charred hues suggest a smoldering rather than an inferno; like stubble-burnt crops, the field boundaries are still visible - some abrupt others smoother.

The figures conjoin and dominate, their exaggerated en pointe extremities incising the lower third. Their heavy ecclesiastically tailored garments, pleated in alternating whites and blues, hang heavily yet effortlessly. Its a testament to a power wielded that it was even feared by the classical pantheons. The strong verticality and sweep of the lines are a severe reprimand to the abstract background. There is no need of metaphysics today.

The left-most figure, palms clasped upwards mirroring the feet, locks large lidless eyes with the viewer's. The skin is a putrid olive, the hair cut monastically like Joan of Arc, the mouth occluded. Its a direct statement that nothing need be said and events are in inexorable motion. The small head nestles within the surging wave of fabric passing momentum to the next figure.

The central figure partially obscures the first and materially fuses with it. The head here is almost imperceptible craning upwards. The curve up to the third and final Fate has the Bosch-like demeanour of a Bird Demon. And that right-most figure half in shadow with a scything arm propels us to a terrifying vision of finality. The background dark orange comes through at the head framed as a sarcophagus.

The bold application of paint across a zone of zero-gravity portrays a time lapse of life's phases. Emotion writ large in form and minimised in facial expression.

Part of the collection of Museu Arpad Szenes - Vieira da Silva, Lisbon, Portugal.