So perfect in design, a dessicated carcass appears a rusting shell. Lines altered, purpose removed, form hunched but relaxed. Spattered with the noise of time retains identity and beauty.
A post of odds and ends in my current sketchbook(s). Some will develop into something…others not.
Roots of a Tolkien’s family tree.
The tree roots of ‘Three Beeches’ to the east of Avebury stone circle have become know as the ‘Tolkien Trees.’ The inspiration for J.R.Tolkein’s middle Earth, people say. They are impressive roots, exposed on the high chalk of the henge, its arteries. The ‘gates of Hades’ in their twisted form snake toward the dark trunks, not from it. I see human forms in a hurried watercolour , the roots themselves.
(Tolkien’s family deny these trees were his inspiration.)
Butterfly catch your breath before changing the rain in Spain. Only seconds to capture your colour and gossamer form, then you are gone.
The ether flows amongst the Stones and beyond the Red Lion. There is a formation of the ancients, fleeting congregations of entities. A collection of time, with memories and emotions. My eyes see veils , my mind makes pictures.