Since lockdown a continued study of two fields, reserved for nature for the last decade. An impermanent canvas, like a bird’s nest, a home no bigger than your hand, made of sticks, that blows away at the end of the nesting season. Jane's paintings are visual diaries, lists of rich undergrowth, peaty soils, and local species in wilder Dartmoor places. Oil brushed into canvas, the ever- changing seasons of muted light and rich colour. As she paints outdoors the weather is indifferent to her need for comfort and sometimes she flounders in its arms. High summer, it is too dry, and she is a parched painter, she hears adders in the moorland grass. Deep winter it’s too windy, wet, and cold and the wild ponies have come to snuffle the apple she has stored away in her rucksack pocket, greedily overturning the painting table in their ravenous haste.