When I went to see Sarah Gillespie recently at her oak-framed Devon studio, I suggested to her that there was a serenity, almost a purity, in her art that reminded me of a swan sailing upon water. I think the image is apt partly because swans have been a theme that she has herself explored... Read more »
Sarah Gillespie’s pencil hovers above the empty white paper. Looking out over the Devon landscape, her forensic gaze takes in a scene she is intimately familiar with. Each twist and turn, rut and stile of the paths around Slapton Ley have been engraved into her muscle memory through repeated walking; each branch and leaf, sunburst... Read more »
I need only look up to see that darkness is as deep and boundless as the Cosmos itself. David Hinton, Hunger Mountain Listen to the birds singing outside. But they are not outside. There is no border between them and us: no separation. Zen Master Hogen, The Other Shore Consider the hair on a bee’s... Read more »
Sarah Gillespie’s latest paintings are works of dust and shadow. Intricate and delicate drawings that capture in remarkable detail the natural world of the south Devon landscape where she lives. It is a world of dancing atoms and temporal fragility, of moths, blossom, hares and birds, whose cycles of life and death so often remain... Read more »
