In Bryony Rose’s latest work, ‘BLINKING, GLARE‘, she draws on the compounded teenage memory of walking home up the track after school to create a series of sculptural reliefs. Brambles curl around the room, across the recurring football pitch and through the changing evening’s light. Two moths dance together in the harsh beam of their floodlight moon. This journey was made hundreds of times and the memory has no defined edges but wrapped around it all is a sense of nostalgia and of disconnection – an unremarkable coming-of-age.

A rural Scottish teenage-hood informs much of Bryony’s work and these auto-biographical motifs are combined with the pastoral language of British applied arts. The imagery around teenage rites of passage in a small community take on the same cultural weight as more traditional motifs such as nightjars, rooks and moths that, in her work, provide witness to the otherwise empty scenes.

In considering the liminal qualities of dusk we might trace the blurry edges of what is artificial, natural or normal in these landscapes. And in these tracings we can think about wider conversations on how rural landscapes are depicted in culture and politics and to what end.