tomatoes (limited edition print)

“You’re drawing a can of tomatoes?!” The owner of the B&B laughed as he looked over my shoulder—then, without hesitation, asked if he could take a photo. And there it was: proof of art’s quiet magic, its power to transform the most ordinary of objects into something worth noticing.

A can of tomatoes—so common it’s nearly invisible, tucked away in every kitchen cupboard across Italy. But look closer. The bold red and blue of the label, the ridges in the metal and the way they catch the light, the scuffed, brassy edges that hint at a history of hands that have turned it over, deciding what to make for dinner. Suddenly, it’s not just a can of tomatoes. It’s this can of tomatoes—singular, special, no longer interchangeable.

Like the Little Prince’s fox, made unique simply by the love and attention he gave her, this solitary can exists in two extremes at once—both utterly commonplace and entirely one of a kind. Hanging on a wall, it becomes a quiet reminder of the power of art, of attention, of the simple act of looking. Because anything, when truly seen, can be transformed.