I began this expedition in 2018 as a way of squaring my art circle which had begun in 1967 and died an ignominious death in 1968 due to massive cultural dislocation. Yorkshire was barely out of the 1950s while Brighton was spaced out and dropped out and jangling through its hippie flower-power summer of luuuurve phase. We had more hair than skirt length, everyone slept on other people’s floors, nothing had a lock on it, and meals seemed to come from nowhere. Not surprisingly, my brain fell over and refused to function so I went back to Yorkshire, straightened myself … Continue reading On the brink of 3.3 – final unit of the degree