A dreamscape is conjured in yearning for a familiar world. Protective mountains rise, and below, a family-proud woman struggles with the elements, hanging pure white sheets in the gusty wind. They flap like sails, when suddenly; one is torn from her worn hands, flying up like a lost letter and away from her care and shelter. Above her screeches a carrion crow, shrieking an alarm over a once nurturing land. Fallen apples lay decaying on the ground.

Materials: Oil on canvas

The Lost Couthie Loon – oil on canvas
Deborah Sanderson