All the cliched descriptions one hears about the Kalahari are true. It is harsh land, where the distribution of the plants and the colour of the soil are the only signs that there may be, or may have been, water there.
It took me months to process what I had seen and felt. My tried and trusted methods of painting didn’t work; it was as if the light came from above and somehow, from the ground. I reassessed every colour and brush mark.
The white paper that is the start of the printmaking process suited this bleached and tentative landscape. Collaborating with Mark also worked; he is so tuned in to the surface of the print, seeing with me, the things that may go unnoticed, picking up on the tentative and helping to find a way to say it with ink. What fun it was to pick up on chance marks and develop them into thorn bushes, or pebbles and to build up layers of thousands of carefully curated dots (really like doing that!) into something that radiates heat and gives a sense of vast space.