Saturday, January 21, 2006
My husband hates going out on walks with me and my camera. He likes the walk, you understand...it's the photography he can't stand. He'll think, it has gone very quiet...only to realise that I'm waaaaaaaay behind him, still taking photos of the tree that he glanced at in passing...or worse, kneeling on the ground taking pictures of its exposed roots.
Roots are beautiful things...I think a lot of my drawing is affected by their sinuous wonder. They look deceptively frail, peeping up out of the pathway, but they spread out and hold great, old trees in their place in the earth. I seem to spend a lot of time poking about at the bottom of trees, looking for treasure, taking pictures. And eventually, those pictures turn into textiles or paintings; an organic process, just like tree leaves mulching into the earth to feed the tree. It would seem that my process, like my life, is rooted in nature.