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.”

Peter Watts


Acrylic on Linen