Reflection:

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The cold countryside, a red house. Just like the cliffs near by only waves of artists wash over it. The perfect setting to combine dance, print, art, creativity an the female spirit. Our aims for the month ahead growing into the earth where our mother tree eats them with her mouth. Her legs grow up towards the sky like a mad woman in a headstand.
The pressure that is relieved by shared responsibility for being creative. The joy of learning a new skill. The excitement at the mysterious chemical that has a mind if it's own. The primal delight of lighting a girl, of seeing the moon and stars, the sunrise.
The trust of working together, the trust in the universe, in nature, in the chef!
The wholeness of sharing a fire, sharing a room, of sharing parts of our practice, of countless cups of tea and the need for chocolate to always be on hand.
The knowledge of the shared joy of moving, of fear of the future, of the confusion at the world we live in. The shared ambition to be authentic, to find the light, to dance in the mud half naked to see what happens.
The magic of filling a large room with  inspiration and work. A "punk" mural, some ghostly hands, a canvas born of a "stage" and a puddle, some prints that vanish or change.
Detail lost and detail found.