2009 : t a n i a . r o l l o n d As I lean over the wheel, magpie songs swell outside and then flood through the open door. As my pencil searches for a line, the lightning flash of a rosella cuts across the window. As I take up my paintbrush, a passing storm stains the sky and stirs the ants - I take a deep breath as the first swollen drops land. I shape the forms, draw out the lines and paint the colours that trace these rhythms on each white surface; patterns of this place and time.