A solitary girl lost in thought enters a framed picture space - a drab townscape bathed in spectacular yet cheerless mid-winter light. Vehicles spew diesel as they navigate the frozen streets at a snail’s pace and the air is rife with the smell of road salt and food smells borne on steaming kitchen vapours. Blue Monday is not merely a streetscape; It is a pictorial narrative that is meant to be confronted with a particular sense of uncomfortable intimacy, taking for granted the presence of a viewer who agrees to a dialogue in which the words are put forward by the lone subject, but in which the meaning must be invented by the viewer.
