Indian summers are a rare commodity in the UK, and especially in the North that normally gets battered by all the atlantic has to offer. The Pennines have a tendency to trap all the cloud cover and bad weather that blows in from the coast. However something like this, the exact opposite of it all, very occasionally happens; days that should be wet, and cold, and full of mud transform into the deepest, unending summer, filled with potential. I finally conquered Rivington on a day like this. It was wonderful. The colours of an entirely empty sky were breathtaking. The scale (F Dorian) was selected to convey fragility and the unfinished nature of things, something infinite and transient.
The Indian Summer of life should be a little sunny and a little sad, like the season, and infinite in wealth and depth of tone, but never hustled.
Installation 9 (Rivington, North West, UK)