For an artist whose practice has consistently engaged with the prose of his everyday life, a gentle – yet no less cogent - poesy perfumes the air of Chris Huen Sin-kan’s achingly beautiful paintings. His is a melody of paint that weeps in the gardens to which he and his family make regular visits together and trembles – sometimes in disquiet, other times in adventure – in the woods where he walks his two dogs. Huen’s insistence on unveiling what he calls ‘the ordinariness of my unsubstantial experiences’ thus sits at odds with the fugue-like polyphony of his compositions, nourished by a delicate, tremulous mark making that seems to hover over his subject, eliciting a metamorphosis of form and nuance that sees the ordinary effloresce into the remarkable.