Something from the Edge of Winter

20130910-012636.jpg

I was back in the artshed tonight, paints and assorted materials out, several different sheets on the go at same time. I’ve hardly been in there recently – all those fine evenings in the golden summer we had and now that it’s turning to dark and cold in the evenings I feel the urge to be there – warm clothes on, artificial light, operating with difficulty in the awkward mess. What is this urge, this drive for thrawn isolation?