“A rustic wooden table bearing a copper pot, a brace of wild game birds,…”

“The table's rough wood demands structure—I see planes, not just grain. The grain fights against the copper's gleam, yet the legs anchor the stable geometry. Courbet would bury it in dirt; I give it fractured light. The table becomes the true subject, solid and patient.”

“This table groans with honest weight—rough grain, deep knots, shadow pooling in its scars. But those fractured pomegranates betray nature’s solid truth for cold geometry. A carpenter’s plank needs no Cézanne’s dissecting eye; ripe fruit bursts, it does not shatter into light.”