This one I keep on the site because it is honest about where I was. The marketing manager of the hotel where I waited tables, Eda Shpiliauskaite, asked me one day if I wanted to make illustrations for the windows of the rooftop lounge, park-related, since I was an artist. I drew them at home over a weekend, scanned them, and handed them over. She had them vectorised and printed onto frosted glass, and the staff installed them.
There was no exhibition, no curator, no opening. It was decoration, a commercial job. The drawings reimagined a London rooftop, nostalgic lampposts, a park that was never there.
What makes it mine, looking back, is the irony: an artist drawing a fake park to dress the windows of the lounge above the kitchen where he carried plates. The work hid the work.
