Barbara Hepworth Museum, St Ives

He peered closely through the windows of the sculptor's studio and could no longer see the reflection of his long gingery hair and olive t-shirt in the glass. Instead, he could see an abandoned and predominantly white room full of old tins and tools that were arranged in such a way that it looked like the sculptor had left them looking exactly like that. Maybe she had.

Maybe he was wondering how the ghost of the sculptor would feel staring in through those same windows, or maybe he supposed that one day he would have his own similar studio where he would create whatever he felt like, or maybe for the long period of time that he looked in, he could simply see her in his mind tending to the materials, in the process of sculpturing.