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The River Wherever :
Limited edition Giclee print  £50
Unframed in double mounted white card   220 x 400mm
 

Limited edition printed canvas £40  300 x 400mm    
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Another day, a saturday. Beginning a walk by the bridge, that leant as we crossed, before it twitched as if our feet were tickling its timbers, hoping that we’d return to do it again. We would. Yet only after our paths had pressed into the marsh thistle, fleabane and meadowsweet. Only after the rain had fallen on my naked head, drumming rhythms like frenetic fingers on a tambora or dohl drum. The puddles grew, the river grew. The rain began to sparkle on the plastic surface of the twisted river like fireworks bursting across the deepest blue black sky.

When we had tired of making our way across the rocks that tripped and tricked the water into a myriad of pathways; “you go there, you go here, no here! Or there...” Confused and bemused, the waters stop and start. You’ll get no sense of flow here.

Then we climbed up the valley, the river slowed down, moving with grace and maturity, no rocks to hold up its progress across the land. “I am strong and nothing can stop me now – wherever I go”.

So, back to the crossing, the gangway that will lead us home to warmth and wellbeing. Oh, that feeling of completing a journey. The bridge welcomed us, jumping in anticipation of our feet, besmirched with river clay, lightly cleaned on long bladed grass that squeaked, echoing the squeals of pleasure from the bridge as we made our way across again - to wherever we wanted to go.