Welcome to Harvest Moon, a place where the creatures and landscapes of my imagination take form and meet the world. Nestled in beneath the wild craggy tors of Dartmoor inspiration comes on chilly winds from moonlit landscapes of other realms which share this rugged, ancient land of gorse and granite. Living here I sometimes feel on a bridge between worlds and ages as the land speaks from spluttering streams and wind-beaten tors, telling stories of folk and beast, but only in snatches before the endings are whipped away down the valley with the broad river and out to sea. So here I will share these stories and characters and they can dwell in your own imagination, continuing their stories with infinite outcomes. This is how they live, enjoy them!

Monday, 24 October 2011

stillness on the tor...

A fiery autumn sun retreats behind the weather shaped rocks of Haytor.
Haytor quarry just before sunset, mirror still. I have never experienced Haytor so totally devoid of movement. Dartmoor is renowned for wild, gusty winds eddying around the rocky tors, and if not wind, then a thick shroud of mist (see 'Haytor' on my Paintings page). This curious evening was so still that the atmosphere was almost eerie. We could whisper to one another across the water, and the deep throaty croak of a passing raven seemed to echo into infinity. We found ourselves wandering the moor like lost ghosts, unsure of how to interact with this environment without its accompanying weather. But it soon became wonderfully liberating; we ambled, backs straight, chins up, shoulders relaxed. We spoke at a gentle volume and slowly made our way up to the top where we took in the epic panoramic in our own good time. It felt like someone had turned off the wind machine and allowed us to explore the set, and gave our walk a strange, dreamlike quality. I wonder if I will ever see a day like this on Haytor again.... I dont really  mind. The wind is so vital, it gives the tors their wild, rich, untamed life, and that is what we go there for.

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