I remember when my daughter was very young, her first pet a caged bird died. It really upset her, she just felt it would have lived forever. She soon got over it and replaced it with a new one. The loss of life in the Troubles was not quite like that. People were being killed in the streets, in their homes on the way to work. For the families they could never be replaced, the memories of a loved one, a photo, a letter, all that was left, to console their grief. This painting for me was an attempt, to try in a small way to try to understand their loss. The numbers are like a repetitive jig rhythm, a wake for the dead. I felt we were chained to histories not always of our own making.