One again we are struck by the variety of submissions, and their geographical reach – from Denmark to Texas, from Midlothian and Mull to Cardiff, via Bangor and Devon (there’s a challenge for the new Railway consortium). The pandemic still rumbles on, but was less evidently a prompt for writing, though we do have an account on how to reskill in a dystopian present, as well as insights from pre-history. Apparently, after fifteen months of non-tactile communication, we are awaiting a summer of love, which presents itself in some of its guises, awkward/young, cross-species (anyone else for a fumble with a seahorse?), maternal. There are also guest appearances from some ghosts; women as viewed by artists; and the familiar smattering of beaches, birds, trees and myths from various corners of the world.
This month’s artist is Beth Ross whose paintings are a riff on colour and memory, motherhood and travel, all underpinned with splintering geometry.