There is a kind of bibliophile’s parlour game in which you arrange books on a shelf so that the sequence of titles on their spines tells a story.
You might do something similar with the titles of the individual drawings in the Tropical Night series.
Feathered Bat Descending. In the Dance. Hop Skip Jump. Jump Up. Shot Call. Flight.
Coming and Going. Immersed in Explanations. Submerged.
Oxford Journey. Castaway. New World. Making Progress.
A Next Day. Sitting Here Watching. Open Seas. Day In, Day Out.
After the Fire. Crown. Thorns. Bird Stress. Air. The Hills. That Tree. The Hunger.
Another kind of narrative. Another way, perhaps, of not seeing the thing at hand, the marks on the piece of paper before me.
“There is a kind of day that is very grey or brown . . . it is a mood or tone I often feel on a dreary day, waiting for a taxi before it rains or going to some kind of daily routine . . . It’s the experience of being on the street in open space, or just inside ourselves. What do we feel, what do we choose to notice and sense on a given day? It’s about the internal and external landscape of the place as I experience it.”
From "Taking note", by Nicholas Laughlin, in the August 2006 Caribbean Review of Books