Mimosas in a jug on the floor of the old house where I grew up, lit by the sun from the open window.

As I wrote in another post, I got this battered, centuries old brass jug from a Moscow friend, who brought it from an archaeological expedition to the Caucasus mountains. It was bent and chiseled by hand out of sheet metal by a local artisan, and is held together by rivets. I liked this jug and used it in several paintings and drawings. It is still alive and well in my parents’ home in Ukraine.