My latest painting is my favourite bridge in Loftus Woods. Quiet waters, but moving still. Light and dark. Reflections… Moving away from large vistas, to darker places. Reflections and reminiscences, clouded by time and memory failure. We are our memories, or rather our memories make us. I’ve always been interested by the processes of memory. A few months ago, an Alzheimer sufferer moved into my house. She forgets many things, but at times remembers many other things which she thought were lost to her. And then she is full of joy, and wants to share her memories, in case she loses them again. As reflections can be partly obscured, sometimes memories are distorted by the flow, upside down, and out of context.
This is a painting of a small bridge. I like bridges. I think we should build more bridges, and fewer walls.

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