There’s a moment when a lobster is no longer a lobster. Plucked from the ocean, boiled to perfection, and placed with pomp and circumstance on the table, a seemingly simple lobster can quickly transform into a feast, encased in rich scarlet red armor, defending itself from outside intruders even while served on a plate.

But this lobster resists its fate.

In The Dinner Guest, this lobster isn’t on the menu; it’s an icon of indulgence, perched on the edge, caught between its past life in the sea and its transformation into the representation of an idolized reality. With one claw draped dramatically over the side, it almost seems to be asking, “Am I a guest at this feast, or the main event?”

There’s a strange vitality in its stillness, a tension that invites you to pause and consider the cost of luxury as it stares at you intently with one eye.

In this painting, the lobster becomes a symbol—of consumption, desire, and perhaps a fleeting moment of personal reflection. It’s a piece that asks more of the viewer than a simple glance, calling collectors to pause for a moment and take a seat at the table