I found this print in the basement of the Leon Cafe on Boxhagener strasse which we are renovating to put on an art show. The print is of two pots, I found it in a huge pile of rubbish to be thrown away; wood, tables, even a sink reside in this pile. The basement is dark and dusty. When I wrench the print out to get a good look at it, it is covered in plastic. I tear the plastic off and something becomes apparent, damp has seeped in to the fabric of the canvas distorting the colour. A small island in the middle has retained the warm terracotta pigment as well as three of the four corners where cardboard triangles have been, the rest has turned bluey- green. I find this slightly ironic; that the subject matter of the painting is pots, which are used to retain water and the painting has literally done the same thing. There is some writing in the top right corner, it says "die dunkelheit ist genauso wichtig wie das", translated meaning "the darkness is as important as the" and on the bottom it says "Licht", translated meaning "Light". I have seen these sorts of prints in cafés and airport bars before, apart from being aesthetically pleasing I never feel they are particularly deep or meaningful but rather mass produced plonk art. Something is different about this print. It has aesthetically a ying-yang vibe from the damp and in this situation, having salvaged it from destruction; its message resonates with me. "The darkness is as important as the light". As if this painting is a Buddhist monk that has been to the edge and back saying that we are all dying but be calm, the print itself is half dead, its colours fading and through its plight it has brought through understanding of life from the other side. It has a profoundly calming effect on me as if the print has accepted its fate. We get anxious and fret about where our lives are going but our decisions are half luck so don't beat your self up to much when things go wrong. You are not perfect, except you flaws; they are as much you as your perfections. Be like the pots.