“…Because when we look, say at a tree, we revel in the contained explosion of root, trunk, branch, leaf, blossom, fruit; fruit, blossom, leaf, branch, trunk, root. Thrust upwards, waving in the wind, shimmering. To see through that leaf to cell, to molecule, to atom, to energy is the ecstasy of the dervish. The dervish moves like that, is moved by that.

“We are the dervishes of the art world. From that ecstatic move to oneness with energy at the heart of things we fling colour onto canvas. It takes the shape of how we move, our dance. We are the psychic weathervane – turned by the multidimensional infinitely expressive currents of love, the consciousness of love. Burdened as we are by grief, by loss, by impossible desires, by the immense weight of the world, we spin, and throw off images from the unseen world, the world of sudden grace, of unconditional promise, of correspondences and revelations, of surprise.

“Isn’t it?”

—Jo Hayward-Haines