A rowan like a lipsticked girl.
Between the by-road and the main road
Alder trees at a wet and dripping distance
Stand off among the rushes.
There are the mud-flowers of dialect
And the immortelles of perfect pitch
And that moment when the bird sings very close
To the music of what happens.
By Seamus Heaney from Field Work
As much as I am tempted to articulate some over-arching creative explanation of the collections herein, I have long since learnt that it is best to let artists speak straight to viewers, and that little can be added that will not twist the clarity of vision which announces itself like a clarion and is immediately understood.
So without further ado, I present, thanks to the generosity of our sweet dear friends, Adriana Teresa and Graham Letorney, a collection of stories, of moments in life, of revelations where the bird sings very close to the music of what happens.
Enjoy,
Frank Evers