No matter how pristine the view, how manicured the property, how glorious the beach and the sparkling water, there is always a tip somewhere, close by. It may be a gully or a dip in the land or maybe a hole has been purpose dug but so long as it is not too close to the house or the water supply and the trailer can get there without falling apart, it serves. There sits the old car, rusting gently amid the bracken with old tyres and oil drums for companions, there rolls the old fence amid the blackberries with droppers still attached, and the bones of animals past turn green and grey. And there is the hum of flies and the whiff of something more recent, and underneath all are the layers from past tip trips to the Black Hole. This painting has something of the tip about it I think.