Mom on the living room couch her head on the armrest and her feet on the floor as if she wants to lie down but is afraid to get too comfortable lest she fall asleep. She holds a spatula in front of her clasped in both hands as if it's a sword and she's about to dub a knight. Her flowered housedress bunches up just above her knees. Her hair in rollers covered by a kerchief. I watch her through the archway between the kitchen and living room.

He painted the plasterboard around the arch to look like a brick wall.

Every brick textured a different shade of terra-cotta, from washed-out whitish bricks to bright red. On one side of the arch a painting of Jesus Christ on the cross; on the other side, the Virgin Mary clutching her breast. They're positioned so that they seem to be looking at each other. To walk into the living room you must pass under their gaze.