I enjoy the symbols of danger that occur on maps. Odd markers that say little but, There be dragons here or have beastly tails protruding from un-drawn edges. More contemporary, stark yellow and black signs of radiation or even the blacked out areas of government compounds on google maps. All of these intrigue me for what they don’t say. As much as they mark a danger, their vagueness is what makes them alluring for the imagination.

When drawing, I find a circular route and start walking my pens and brushes along it. All around a map starts to form and you see the landscape start to build itself from strokes and pauses. There are always canyons, mountains and smooth blue lakes that spread out with the grace of an amoeba. Color becomes a skin forming across a formerly invisible landscape. It oozes up and takes a seat, seemingly as natural as if it had been there all the time – pre-formed in the mind of my mind.

And then, like poisonous mushrooms on the side of a strong tree, plumes of pink start blooming. Markers of danger in the land, acid borders on the way to Reflex Point.  Amid cool and calm dark hues there is something disconcerting about the emergence of sickly glowing tones of artificial warmth. Pinks, light magenta, yellowy greens all of these seem to have this quality.

As though you could look from afar, but not risk getting close or reaching out to touch it. For fear of being tainted or poisoned. An ant carrying death back into the nest.

No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous.