I painted this picture as part of a series that attempted to explore the arresting relationship between sunlight and clapboard, white-washed, concrete, pebble-dashed, limestone-fronted, dented, scrubbed, seamy, renovation-smoothed walls and surfaces. This is very much a Syracuse painting. Most everything there is painted white, in an effort to reflect the ever-present snows of the winter months. Syracuse is a gloomy city for the most part - and is populated by a white-skinned race that does very little to colorize itself throughout the year. Black people live there too, in largely white houses with green shutters.

This particular house was separated from me by a parkinglot. It had been converted into a funeral parlor some years back and was doing a land-office business all the time I lived in my apartment. The week I moved, this very wall was somewhat disfigured by workmen who were putting in some sort of annex. When your business is to bury people, you rarely get smaller.