We here in the UK are experiencing weird weather. It is almost mid June, but I am wearing winter clothes and thick tights. The rain keeps falling and the tennis season is upon us. The leaves are out and lush and green, and dripping with rain drops. The birds are drookit, and looking miserable. Cats stay in, and look out, dashing wildly through our long grass if they do venture into our garden in a dry spell. I'm not sure that even the ducks are happy.
As I looked out at it all this morning I thought of the magical limbo-like images of Elizabeth Magill; this is her territory we are living in these days. These are images of a world separate from our bodies; a world seen through thick, smudgy glass, remembered perhaps from another time, another dream - one season seen while feeling another season, not really being in either. Wondrously weird.
Elizabeth Magill: Skirt tales, lithograph
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