66 x 34cm
Pencil, oil pastel, charcoal & acrylic on paper
March 2026
The wind sings in the rigging, sails snap and the tang of salt is still in the air as the Spinning Jenny turns east into the wind to navigate the estuary.
The view takes her breath away. The city of Al’ Risa, spanning the mouth of the river Suin sparkles in the distance. In an hour they will be safe in harbour and she will be free to roam its’ streets.
Grace’s bare feet grip the salt-hardened rope and she grins. They’ve been at sea for months. She is ready for dry land.
The other sailors dream of wine and the easy charms of dark-eyed women. She dreams of the taste of dates and almonds, the scent of curious spices in the air, the shriek of exotic birds in the palace gardens and curtains of multicoloured silk hiding mysterious doorways.
‘Hey boy!’
‘Get your skinny arse down here and make yourself useful.’
Jack sighs. The first mate. Always a charmer.
‘Keep yer hair on ya leather skinned old walrus’
And down they climb.
66 x 34cm
Pencil, oil pastel, charcoal & acrylic on paper
March 2026
The wind sings in the rigging, sails snap and the tang of salt is still in the air as the Spinning Jenny turns east into the wind to navigate the estuary.
The view takes her breath away. The city of Al’ Risa, spanning the mouth of the river Suin sparkles in the distance. In an hour they will be safe in harbour and she will be free to roam its’ streets.
Grace’s bare feet grip the salt-hardened rope and she grins. They’ve been at sea for months. She is ready for dry land.
The other sailors dream of wine and the easy charms of dark-eyed women. She dreams of the taste of dates and almonds, the scent of curious spices in the air, the shriek of exotic birds in the palace gardens and curtains of multicoloured silk hiding mysterious doorways.
‘Hey boy!’
‘Get your skinny arse down here and make yourself useful.’
Jack sighs. The first mate. Always a charmer.
‘Keep yer hair on ya leather skinned old walrus’
And down they climb.