Willard Wigan macht Kunst in Nadelöhren. Mit Hilfe von Mikroskopen schaffte er winzige und dennoch sehr detailreiche Skulpturen. Klingt schonmal okay, das beste kommt aber zum Schluß, als er erzählt, wie fragil die Dinger tatsächlich sind und den Werken jederzeit etwas zustoßen kann. So wie Alice im Wunderland zum Beispiel. Die hat er eingeatmet.
There cannot be many artists who have swallowed their own works by mistake. Then again, there cannot be many artists who can cheerfully put a six-figure price on something the size of the full stop at the end of this sentence.
"Take a look at this. It will blow you away," says Willard Wigan.
It is an ordinary sewing needle stuck to a piece of Blu-Tac in a plastic box. It is not blowing me anywhere.
Willard chuckles and leads me upstairs to the cluttered spare bedroom of his little house.
A powerful electric microscope sits amid the rubbish on a small paint-splattered desk.
He sticks the eye of the needle under the microscope and then invites me to sit down. What appears through the lens does, indeed, leave me gasping.
"People often swear the first time they see my work. I like that," says Willard proudly.
This is certainly worth a string of exclamations. Because there, in incredible detail, is a hand-painted micro-sculpture of the Mad Hatter's Tea Party from Alice In Wonderland - right down to the sleeping dormouse and the card in the Mad Hatter's hat. I can even read the price tag in the label - ten shillings and sixpence (the actual price of this work, by the way, is £160,000).