From my London studio I painted a memory of standing alone in a forest, on my way to the foot of a rock face that is popular with sport climbers in Southern Spain. I'd stopped to drink from a stream, next to an orange tree and stood there gazing at this incredible mountain I've climbed several times, always with a very different experience.
Smearing the paint from the top of the crag downwards with my fingertips, I remembered holding the rock when climbing, thinking about a beautiful challenge on the last pitch of one of the incredible routes. There is a general love for and respect of the natural environment by climbers, though the bolts drilled into this rock to enable people to climb encourage over popularity, evidenced by a smoothing, or polishing of some useful hand and foot holds, which make them become slippery.
Looking from a distance I thought of this as a human snail trail.
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