Original oil on canvas
More by Andrew Gault
Our lives weave and swirl, out and around, up and down. This line of trees planted 150 years ago shelters a narrow sunken lane running between two townlands, the anglicised names crossing two cultures, the taste of the rise and fall of those strange familiar syllables on our tongues has consumed us through time.
To dander along under these trees, weaving my thoughts with the sounds and voices of those silent men from the past is strangely reassuring.
Seek out those places where the landscape crosses time.