When we look at these paintings, surely reminiscent of cave paintings but also of Marc Chagall and Paul Klee and Kandinsky and Gustave Klimt and Alice in Wonderland, we are welcomed by the velvety warmth of pure pigment, as well as by a sense that any one of us can and will interpret them differently. That all interpretations could be interesting and somehow true – even if Tucker’s narrative of them is as specific as it is grand. The best compliment he could imagine receiving about one of his paintings? That someone can’t stop looking at them.