Untitled|four eighteen – The silence of a plane going through a fir tree contains everything within itself.

‘If I look at a cup I can name it, I can describe its design. I may be able to guess its value or describe its particular use. This is the everyday shorthand by which I orientate myself and make sense of the world around me.’


‘… In another vein of thought I may look at a cup and think of breakfast – a kind of first order association by which I logically connect a cup with a process or event of which a cup is a part.’


‘The most beautiful part / of your body is wherever / your mother’s shadow falls.’ (O.V.)

A wavy line of geese on the cool surface of the sky, like drops of water on black.
Donald Judd Writings (Judd Foundation & David Zwirner Books 2016)
Frost light on the slates of the helpless barn.
One day the patterned rug will go on without.

‘ … Things.
When I say that word (do you hear?), there is a silence; the silence which surrounds things. All movement subsides and becomes contour, and out of past and future time something permanent is formed: space, the great calm of objects which know no urge.’ (R.M.R.)

That life, perhaps, is no more than preparation for the hour suddenly stilled.
Talking to myself … the cherry tree’s going to blossom soon …

‘… Lastly I may look and see mainly a white curving shape. It might remind me of a bath or a seagull. I suspend my habits of vision – I let the object settle in my mind as an object and allow images to well up around it.’


It Never Touches The Ground | I left a cup under our sky / overnight to measure how much / it rained in my dream, with you.

The cup shifted on its saucer – by the nothingness of a bird – helpless.
Perfect day – Scotland, rain, ozone.