I never could have thought my keyboard transforms so naturally into a grand piano every time I write. The prelude, the exposition, the recapitulation: it's my mind that creates; the fingers execute.


Poles, Cables, Pandemic & Prussian Blue


I try not to interpret my own paintings but I guess I should trace the trajectory of especially this one – painted at such a time, painted during these times. Yes, ma...

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from the brexit diaries/31st January 2020

the only borders

I see from up here are blue-

gold-green allian...

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St Ives/ undated


I seem to have brought the rains with me to this sleepy little town by the seaside but the rains here seem friendlier than anywhere else. It is no wonder every settler I meet tells me about how t...

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30th March 2018/ Of Nodes and Internodes

The remarkable thing about life is its tenacity to carry on. We worry so much about death and how it might snatch us when we’re ill or injured but life doesn’t give up that easily o...

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15th February 2018/ Words get in the way

Last month at a Salon Littéraire in Paris, someone asked me about how important it was for me to touch and to feel my words before I spelt them out on my sheets. His words set ...

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