Cadastre, Polished Bronze Ed 6 of 7
Ht. 99 cm. £18,000



Apologies to anyone who has attempted to contact us in the last 24 hours.  We have been having, as NASA used to say, operational malfunctions with our internet and phone line. All back on now. Time for a new year poem…

who comes to the winter shrub,
Grief in his empty pouches, who sups
alone in the stilled garden this dusk:

I would have missed him only I stopped
mid-argument to catch the moonrise
over the wet roofs of the suburb

and caught at work deep in the musk,
shaking the bells of the scarce blossoms
tolling our angers, ringing in peace.

The January Bee by Paula Meehan

Meanwhile we are busy gearing up for the London Art Fair (18 – 22 January). If you would like a complimentary ticket please email the gallery.

we will have new work by  Simon Allen, John Behan, Akash Bhatt, Anna Calleja, Beth Carter, Comhghall Casey, Andrew Crocker, Nathan Ford, Anna Gillespie, Bobbie Russon, Anthony Scullion, Helen Simmonds, Paul Mount, Anthony Scott

We will also have new sculptures made from natural materials by Anna Gillespie:




With what stillness at last
you appear in the valley
your first sunlight reaching down
to touch the tips of a few
high leaves that do not stir
as though they had not noticed
and did not know you at all
then the voice of a dove calls
from far away in itself
to the hush of the morning

so this is the sound of you
here and now whether or not
anyone hears it this is
where we have come with our age
our knowledge such as it is
and our hopes such as they are
invisible before us
untouched and still possible

W. S. Merwin  To the New Year

And finally……we are pleased that for the first time we will have new work by Bobbie Russon on show at London Art Fair


Seriously, Oil on Wood Panel, 20 x 25 cm. Sold.


A cool small evening shrunk to a dog bark and the clank of a bucket –
And you listening.
A spider’s web, tense for the dew’s touch.
A pail lifted, still and brimming – mirror
To tempt a first star to a tremor.

Cows are going home in the lane there, looping the hedges with their warm
wreaths of breath –
A dark river of blood, many boulders,
Balancing unspilled milk.
‘Moon!’ you cry suddenly, ‘Moon! Moon!’

The moon has stepped back like an artist gazing amazed at a work
That points at him amazed.

The Full Moon and little Frieda, by Ted Hughes

Please contact the gallery if you would like an art fair ticket, or are interested in any of the works above.

Thank you for reading as always.