The house where I stayed
Seclusion and sanctuary amongst the Tasmanian Central Highlands.
Rose Lucas writes of the Tasmanian Central Highlands – I paint the words.
“Sudden rain hurtles hitting the land and sending it fizzing into ionised air the pungent smell of earth rising and mingling with a falling of cloud which roils and clashes breaking the bleached day into the sharp edges of coolness its slate-grey blade and fractals of white dry grasses whip and flatten in the onslaught and a parched canopy of clustering gums turn grateful faces up catching runnels of water and splinters of amber light that flood paddocks and towering reaches of sky.”
Acrylic on Linen