A Bitter Aftertaste

At first glance, she is simply resting. Floating on the surface as if everything were calm. But beneath her there is no water. It is beer. A symbol of fun, a way to forget, the background of many adult lives. For some, relaxation. For others, a way not to feel. I grew up next to this. With a father who drank to quiet what he could not cope with. In this painting there is irony, experience, and memory. The duck does not belong here. She is foreign to this drink. Childlike inside something too adult. And in that strange combination, without reproach, lies my question: what do we really feel when it seems that we are simply resting?