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There have been moments, see; pinpricks in time that have given me such an essential and triumphant feeling of realness I am for that one split second jolted directly back into myself. I have found it when immersed in bodies of very cold water, when face-to-face with a vast and beautiful view. I have found it in print, loud noise and in utter silence. I have found it in darkness too. But most of all, most consistently, I have found it in art.


'I loved following Francesca's attempts to feel real in the twenty-first century. Enlightening, insightful, thought-provoking, and still often laugh-out-loud funny.'


Author of Unsettled Ground


'My sense of place does not lie here,' Wilfred wrote while living in London in 1967. It remained instead where it had always been, 'found long ago on the pink clifftops and green hillsides of my childhood'. This salt-licked landscape got right under his skin and never really left; North Devon's snug hills and far distant coastal views continued to inspire the artist long after he had moved away. In essence, Wilfred never stopped painting home.

Published in correlation with a retrospective at the Museum of Barnstaple and North Devon.


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