losing my thoughts in the fast flow of the rivers and streams that trickle off Dartmoor. I get lost in the language of pattern. Tree patterns happen in river systems; nerve endings, happy thoughts are yellow and round. These large canvasses are pattern, movement, and contemplation. The corners of the canvas often have something figurative, the pier, the lion, the crest of a wave. Like looking at the horizon when you have seasickness. A foot on the ground so you don’t fall in.