"The principality of the sky lightens now, over our green hill, into spring morning larked and crowed and belling."

And finally.....................the pieces that came out of, and were inspired by, all the "Under Milk Wood" images I have posted thus far. I hope you like, I'm quite pleased myself :)

For all these pieced I used a mixture of collage, watercolour and pencils.

"Now behind the eyes and secrets of the dreamers in the streets rocked to sleep by the sea."

It's been a while since I last uploaded, but I have just a few more images from the end of my "Under Milk Wood" project which I wanted to share. Here they are............

 "We shared the same girl once...Her name was Mrs Probert..."

"Rosie Probert, thirty three Duck Lane. Come on up, boys, I'm dead."

"The owls are hunting."

 "Look, over by Bethesda gravestones one hoots and swoops and catches a mouse by Hannah Rees, Boloved Wife."

"Come now, drift up the dark, come up the drifting sea-dark street now."

My "Under Milk Wood" project continues on-a-pace. I think I would be quite happy to linger within the it's pages for a lot longer then 3 more weeks (which is all I have left now before the deadline for this particular module rears it's ugly head). I've been concentrating on the characters and after exorcising my fear and loathing of drawing buildings it felt a little strange to go back to drawing people! but I've been enjoying experimenting with line and texture.

"I will warm your heart by the fire so that you can slip it in under your vest when the shop is closed."

Soooo, finally I have some new work to put up! Hooray! And as the winter days get colder and shorter, I have decided to immerse myself in the dreamy depths of the play "Under Milk Wood" by the poet Dylan Thomas which nestles comfortably within the Welsh countryside. It was originally written for the radio (a play for voices) and it is one of thee most beautiful pieces of prose I've ever read. Here are some of the images it has inspired.

"It is spring, moonless night in the small town."

"...the hunched, courters'-and-rabbits' wood limping invisible down to the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, fishingboatbobbing sea."

"And all the people of the lulled and dumbfound town are sleeping now."

"From where you are, you can hear their dreams."

"Young girls lie bedded soft or glide in their dreams, with rings and trousseaux, bridesmaided by glowworms down the ailses of the organplaying wood."

"Time passes. Listen. Time passes."