Moth wings, leaves, the shape of a pear... I adore the almost-but-not-quite-perfect symmetry often found in nature.

These wings are inspired by a stunning velvety moth who had graced my art studio on the edge of the forest with her majestic presence. She had stayed for three days and spoken to me in silent, golden tones of stillness, purity and taking time to simply be.

The architecture of many insects is perfectly balanced: each anatomical part with its own specialised function that enables the creature as a whole to eat, fly, walk, sleep, sing, etc. Kind of like our clever skeletons, organs, blood and other moving, beating parts all neatly bound together inside our skin. It’s all rather miraculous, don’t you think?

Somehow this drawing echoes my cherished memory-sense of the nineteen-seventies, when I was a child, and everything seemed so much more pure, easygoing, and timeless. Technology hadn’t yet driven such a wedge between us and the pristine natural world. Pollution was starting to be noticed, but climate change an unimaginable nightmare that had not yet entered the mass consciousness.

I wonder how we humans can come together as a species — as custodians of this precious Earth — and wind back the clock of environmental destruction... reinstate a feeling of relaxed timelessness that comes from not behaving in a manner that threatens our very own existence.