One year before lockdown, I made and did not make this work. I had an odd hunch and this was the odd result. I could not quite make sense of it but there often isn't much sense to things anyway. An all too common absurd and dystopian expression channelling through the bones of artists. I'm not special. Perhaps it was my old gran, Edie, who was best with her hands in the garden. Sure look.

Natasha Bourke ()

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