In the dark

Winter draws in, with hesitance and with flickering speed, inexorably, it draws in. Sunset here in this sheltered part of north western Europe, slips ever earlier, closing in on half past three in the afternoon, although fated never to quite reach there. This steep side of winter, sliding down into that dark well before the solstice, feels like the hardest part of winter (although in truth every part of winter feels like the hardest part of winter when it is happening).

Ahead of me, over the winter, I will be creating a new body of work for my forthcoming exhibition with Kevin Low in April at Edinburgh's Union Gallery. Ideas for that series, the subjects and the thoughts I want to explore and the moments I want to pin down are slowly gestating. But this is not the time to create a new body of work, in these short and dark days, with the light so hesitant and faltering in the old part of the year.

This is the time to close down, to circle hibernation, to consume culture and use its fire for heat, to follow fairy tales, dark, sinister and hidden beneath bough and bark, through the long cold nights. When day time begins its climb back towards life, that is when the work begins. Until then, I think.