Apologue
2025
Acrylic and mixed media on canvas
150cm x 100cm x 4cm
unframed, £1500
I met this fellow on a warm evening last summer, he leapt out of the woods into the lane behind our house as I arrived home at sunset. He watched me out of the corner of his eye as he crossed the road a few feet from me, then leapt the wall and walked down the river with a lingering backwards glance once he was at a safe distance.
It was an absolutely stilling, time stopping, experience. He was reminding me about things, a living apologue. With his appearance in the decaying mill race it seemed he was bringing me an important message. He walked among crumbling stone walls, and defunct iron workings with mysterious purposes no one understands anymore, reminding me that within a generation it's all been forgotten. 200 years of noise and busyness.
The business of wool and weaving boomed and died, the polluted river and poisoned air are recovering, the clatter and boom of capital is gone from the valley now. But the deer continue, and the trees have returned with the trout and the otter. The Worth Valley has a mythical family of white fallow deer, this is the only time I've actually met one. Harbinger of change. Of a world on the brink.
Apologue
2025
Acrylic and mixed media on canvas
150cm x 100cm x 4cm
unframed, £1500
I met this fellow on a warm evening last summer, he leapt out of the woods into the lane behind our house as I arrived home at sunset. He watched me out of the corner of his eye as he crossed the road a few feet from me, then leapt the wall and walked down the river with a lingering backwards glance once he was at a safe distance.
It was an absolutely stilling, time stopping, experience. He was reminding me about things, a living apologue. With his appearance in the decaying mill race it seemed he was bringing me an important message. He walked among crumbling stone walls, and defunct iron workings with mysterious purposes no one understands anymore, reminding me that within a generation it's all been forgotten. 200 years of noise and busyness.
The business of wool and weaving boomed and died, the polluted river and poisoned air are recovering, the clatter and boom of capital is gone from the valley now. But the deer continue, and the trees have returned with the trout and the otter. The Worth Valley has a mythical family of white fallow deer, this is the only time I've actually met one. Harbinger of change. Of a world on the brink.