Pink trees

I am always surprised by the sudden force of spring’s arrival in London. On one particular day each year, grey is gone and the first pink trees miraculously appear on East End streets that were quite bare the day before. And so the pink tree continues to recur in my practice: harbinger of desire and renewal, fleeting emblem of survival and resistance, an unruly feminine presence in rectilinear landscapes, its nature only ever semi-domesticated in these suburban rites of spring.