Here, one evening, I looked down from the high bluff made of volcanic rocks that had been forced through the more ancient softer petrified sediments. I had previously drawn these contorted rocks in watercolour and sketched the shapes made by the two rock types in ink and wash.
I approached this using a board covered first in thick, unfixed charcoal, drawing in shapes with fingers and an eraser, reserving the brightness of the light reflecting from the sea. I then worked into this with very wet white acrylic, suspending the charcoal dust and building the contrasting tones. Finally I worked into the wet layers with coloured acrylics, a couple of sticks of chalk pastel and a sharp knife hacking my way back to the paper beneath. I photographed the piece on site.
I set off with the piece on a board in the back of the car. After a while I pulled into a lay-by and looked at it again. In the deepening gloom, I ground more charcoal into the surface and slopped on more white paint, lifting the charcoal but obscuring the colour. I tipped my remaining sepia ink in a streak along the line of the rocks.
I imposed rotational acceleration on wet, slowly drying paint as I drove round twisting lanes up and down hills, catching in the headlights owls, startled into flight by my progress.
I photographed it late that evening, still drying, paint still moving slowly to invade the bastions of ink.
This is the dried form, as it now is, waiting further action.