Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again; And then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again
(III.ii.130–138)
Shakespeare, The Tempest

Before June 2016 I saw my studies of colour, light and texture as large square prints, escaping the maelstrom to find some peace and quiet, retreating into a different world of meditative contemplation. 

Looking at the colours of the canal in December 2017 feels more like the destruction of an illusion. After decades in Great Britain life has come to a standstill. I feel lost, unwelcome, unwanted, betrayed. My sense of belonging and identity are gone, through no fault of my own. What attracted me to England and kept me here for 28 years has disappeared; Multiculturalism, inclusion, the British compassion, politeness and humour, creativity in art and music, manners. I liked that privacy was valued. As a European you did not need to register. There was a love for the underdog, Elgar’s music, the cup of tea, Cornwall and the Sea, the freedom to think and speak.

The canal seems to represent layers of colourful nostalgia, with an illusion of the past. My personal life feels poisoned with the toxicity of Brexit. For these pieces I used old vinyl records to cover up the images of frozen water,

16 individual pieces organised in a square; size 2200mmX2200mm
16 Vinyl LP’s mounted on c-prints ( 50X50cm);
floating in deep black box frames ( 55X55cm);
Record sleeves attached to back of frame