Half a mile downstream from Castle sluice, the river slides into a tunnel of trees. Fish and flies break the surface and create little circles of light which push outwards, shivering the reflections of the trunks. I sat on the bank - at fishing station 110 - and scribbled amongst the nettles. A kingfisher flashed past. I've been fixing eye-hooks and wire to the back of canvases, sticking watercolours into mounts and packaging cards ready for the 'River' exhibition next month. Yesterday, I visited the basement gallery where the experienced manager was very helpful. It's a good space - enough wall for 50 paintings, and enough floor for 50 visitors. |