The End

The painting shows a man held still between two worlds. His gaze is directed not at the viewer but as if through them — towards a place where nothing can be changed any more.

Behind him rises the figure of Death in a dark cloak: not aggressive, not triumphant, but simply inevitable. She is quietly present, like a shadow that was always there.

The space around is threaded with gold, suggesting at once a spider's web, the lines of fate, and cracks in reality. The threads cross the figures, bind them to one another and leave no way out of the system. Between the threads float eyes — a sign of watching, of memory, of conscience and of the countless gazes of the past. It seems as though everything a person has lived through goes on looking at them even when the road has come to its end.