I had a canvas ready. I had already painted it black with a white field with no inkling to what was going to happen next. I hung it on my studio wall and let it stare at me. Channeling my inner Paul Klee, I waited for it to tell me what it needed. Then, after several months, it told me. Bananas, it said. Obedient to my muse on that sunny, spring morning I went straight to the grocery store, bought a pile of loose bananas, brought them back to the studio and arranged them and rearranged them until I liked what I saw. Why the fan shape? Does it mean anything? No. I just liked it. And what did I do when I finished painting? I ate bananas.
This painting now happily resides in a private collection, but prints are available.