Gallery Edition Print by Ross Jones
Snells Beach, Northland
Limited Edition Giclée Print on 310gsm Vellum Textured Fine Art Paper
Edition of 49
Print Dimension: 660×500mm
Paper Dimension: 840×710mm
One person’s junk is another’s treasure, and in Prized Possessions that familiar phrase quietly underpins the entire scene. This painting steps into the curious, deeply personal world of collectors, where objects gather meaning far beyond their material worth. Here, realism and imagination meet in a playful act of trompe-l’œil, inviting the viewer to look twice, then linger, as memories begin to surface.
The eye is first drawn to the bottom left corner, where a Matchbox 42 Studebaker Estate Station Wagon sits confidently in the grass. It is small, unmistakably toy-sized, yet it carries the weight of childhood afternoons spent on the floor, inventing roads, stories, and destinations. Beside it stands a hunter and his loyal dog, frozen in the moment, forever poised for action. Together they form a tiny narrative of adventure and purpose, a reminder of how toys once allowed entire worlds to unfold within the boundaries of imagination.
Above them, the scene shifts. A flock of Beswick flying ducks glides effortlessly across the sky. At first glance, they appear free, airborne, alive. Yet their shadows betray them, anchoring their flight firmly to the wall behind. This visual tension—between motion and stillness, freedom and fixation—lies at the heart of collecting itself. These ducks are not merely decorative; they are icons, instantly recognisable to those who know them, and loaded with nostalgia for those who grew up with them on lounge walls and above fireplaces.
One duck has fallen. It rests in the lake below, separated from the others, its flight abruptly ended. The dog’s gaze suggests a retrieval may be imminent, reinforcing the idea of the endless hunt—collector and object locked in a perpetual chase. Nearby, a single brass picture hook remains, accompanied by a faint silhouette, marking the duck’s former place. Absence is made visible. Loss, too, becomes part of the collection.
There is hope here, however. The fallen duck may yet be repaired, perhaps using the ancient Japanese technique of Kintsugi, where breaks are not hidden but highlighted, transformed into something more valuable for having been damaged. In this small gesture, the painting nods to impermanence, fragility, and the quiet optimism of restoration.
The Beswick flying ducks themselves carry a rich history. Originating in Stoke-on-Trent and designed by freelance artist Mr Watkin, they were produced from 1938 through to the early 1970s in various sizes. Once commonplace, now cherished, they stand as symbols of mid-century craftsmanship and domestic pride. Their inclusion here is both homage and preservation.
Prized Possessions ultimately asks us to reflect on why we hold onto things. These objects—whether a toy car, a ceramic duck, or a childhood figurine—become vessels for memory, emotion, and identity. They remind us of who we were, where we’ve been, and what we valued along the way. In acknowledging their vulnerability, the painting gently reminds us of our own.
Gallery Edition Print by Ross Jones
Snells Beach, Northland
Limited Edition Giclée Print on 310gsm Vellum Textured Fine Art Paper
Edition of 49
Print Dimension: 660×500mm
Paper Dimension: 840×710mm
One person’s junk is another’s treasure, and in Prized Possessions that familiar phrase quietly underpins the entire scene. This painting steps into the curious, deeply personal world of collectors, where objects gather meaning far beyond their material worth. Here, realism and imagination meet in a playful act of trompe-l’œil, inviting the viewer to look twice, then linger, as memories begin to surface.
The eye is first drawn to the bottom left corner, where a Matchbox 42 Studebaker Estate Station Wagon sits confidently in the grass. It is small, unmistakably toy-sized, yet it carries the weight of childhood afternoons spent on the floor, inventing roads, stories, and destinations. Beside it stands a hunter and his loyal dog, frozen in the moment, forever poised for action. Together they form a tiny narrative of adventure and purpose, a reminder of how toys once allowed entire worlds to unfold within the boundaries of imagination.
Above them, the scene shifts. A flock of Beswick flying ducks glides effortlessly across the sky. At first glance, they appear free, airborne, alive. Yet their shadows betray them, anchoring their flight firmly to the wall behind. This visual tension—between motion and stillness, freedom and fixation—lies at the heart of collecting itself. These ducks are not merely decorative; they are icons, instantly recognisable to those who know them, and loaded with nostalgia for those who grew up with them on lounge walls and above fireplaces.
One duck has fallen. It rests in the lake below, separated from the others, its flight abruptly ended. The dog’s gaze suggests a retrieval may be imminent, reinforcing the idea of the endless hunt—collector and object locked in a perpetual chase. Nearby, a single brass picture hook remains, accompanied by a faint silhouette, marking the duck’s former place. Absence is made visible. Loss, too, becomes part of the collection.
There is hope here, however. The fallen duck may yet be repaired, perhaps using the ancient Japanese technique of Kintsugi, where breaks are not hidden but highlighted, transformed into something more valuable for having been damaged. In this small gesture, the painting nods to impermanence, fragility, and the quiet optimism of restoration.
The Beswick flying ducks themselves carry a rich history. Originating in Stoke-on-Trent and designed by freelance artist Mr Watkin, they were produced from 1938 through to the early 1970s in various sizes. Once commonplace, now cherished, they stand as symbols of mid-century craftsmanship and domestic pride. Their inclusion here is both homage and preservation.
Prized Possessions ultimately asks us to reflect on why we hold onto things. These objects—whether a toy car, a ceramic duck, or a childhood figurine—become vessels for memory, emotion, and identity. They remind us of who we were, where we’ve been, and what we valued along the way. In acknowledging their vulnerability, the painting gently reminds us of our own.
