Songs from the wood.




It is quiet, dim, still down here. High above the tallest trees dance with the wind, touching each other. The days are cooling now, the numbing of fingertips. A buzzard skreeks through. Antlers of wood rest on the forest floor, broken and birdsong rings in the air, bells peeling, joining, falling rising together, inviting the day.


Mixed media on paper 150 x 52 cm








A library. Of things found. In the woods where I walk and draw. Objects that offer clues. Evidence of home. A pigeons skull, lichen, beech nuts and peoples things, their cups and saucers lie broken amongst stones. I am searching for finds. I carry them home in a Fair Isle tammy, a nest of vulnerables making sense of a place. Breakable, overlookable. An archive, catalogued, photographed, stored for now in a small cardboard box that once housed five rolls of half inch wide masking tape.


Island of Kerrera



West coast of Scotland. September. A sketch from a walk around this most beautiful of islands. Sun, damp, moss, bog, sun, sheep. Oak trees, rowans, rock, lichen. Rain.