When I was photographing some of Franko’s black on black paintings a few weeks ago, I had an undisturbed time to observe his work and think what could possibly be going on in his mind when he thought and created these intense and disconcerting paintings. By the time I finished what I was doing I had concluded that he is talking about End. End, not necessarily death. End of a period, a certain age, a relationship, a short moment of anxiety or pleasure. A clock was ticking on one of his paintings - it was more like a time bomb than a cheerful cuckoo clock.

Franko’s presence will remain in that studio for some time, and he shall be missed greatly.

Abbas

PS. this picture is a manipulation of Franko’s photograph to achieve his painting effects, together with his empty room and Ruthko.