For me, this enigmatic painting by Alfred Wallis conjures the spirit of an ancient All Hallows’ Eve, when the veil between the living and the dead grows thin.

It is the beginning of winter - the dark half of the year. The house looks small and ghostly beneath the towering forest. Inside, the living huddle close; outside, souls begin to wander the earth. Following tradition, a candle will be lit in the window to guide them home.

In truth, it is unlikely Wallis intended the shapes to the left of the house to be wandering souls. Perhaps they are nothing more than a few unconscious brushstrokes. But I love how the house leans away from them, as if in silent fear.