My vision of hell is a high-ceilinged, octagonal room with eight doors. The room is exquisitely panelled in oak and all the doors are closed. Each door would open onto paths of opportunity, were it not firmly shut.

One feature of this beautiful room (in my imagining) is that one of the doors is always slightly ajar. There is the prospect of teasing it open to experience things to do, people to see, scents to smell, tastes to savour.

Quite why the room is eight-sided I really can’t say. Perhaps it adds to the grandeur and authority of hellishness. And quite why the hell-dweller so routinely returns to this world of diminished choices is also difficult to tell.

To explore these matters, I’ve started to try and represent elements of confinement. Not that I’m an artist or anything, but it sometimes helps to try and make models of things you can’t put into words.