As the ship of Theseus was progressively repaired to what extent could it be said to still be itself?

Resplendent oil paint is smoothed over the canvas to give an exacting portrait of an emotionally distant winged doll. Its a lachrymose renewal as she kneels gaze turned to the ground her weight shifting to the left; the right arm unseen.

Convexity emerges in the crescent eyes, in half open state, mirrored by manicured eyebrows. The eyes, mouth and ears reduce to infantile proportions to give an anime effect. The lozenge shaped face nestles in curtains of vinylised chestnut hair.

The diaphanous white dress has left traces in the background as it sheds. It has the quality of paper and silk. An insectoid in the bottom right stands witness to this fallen priestess perhaps in anticipation of its own metamorphosis. Its a lamentation of adolescence. The weariness of novel conquering emotions and forgotten security.

The palette eschews dayglow temptation and opts for the muted remembrances of dream fragments. Its not a bourgeois spectacle of ennui but a silent conservation of energy as a new surface forms.