M. S. Beresford
Working within and against the Romantic tradition of the 19th Century, these paintings revisit the 'sublime' at a time when we - once again, after a century or more of ignorant bliss - are being made sorely aware of nature's ability to ignore us. These images intend to mock our disengaged beautification of an immense power that acts with disinterest towards us and our constructs: The vengeful 'balance of nature.'
Entering a forest is an ‘incredible journey’ into a creature; a self-sufficient entity that simultaneously regenerates, consumes, expels and dies. It harbours permanent residents and visitors alike. it holds, churns, creates, and returns to, the soil. It halts the wind while breathing it, and cleaning it. It catches, holds, drinks and makes the rain. It creaks, rustles, crackles, and seethes with the irresistible torque of millennial inertia. And yet, a Kanker (sic) is at work.