August 2007, I took a different route home.

I stopped the car and snuck into a field. Weardley, near Harewood, north of Eccup. Sunset. Overwhelmed by the lines and colours, the vast space, the dying living moment, I took out my digital camera. But the photos were awful. The colours were all wrong and the scene was reduced to a flat fraction of the landscape. All feeling and atmosphere were absent.

So I took a number of photos, east to west, earth to sky, and resolved to recreate them at home. I added the bales — there were none there that evening — to structure the piece into thirds, and to show how light and shadows bend.

I’ve enjoyed the wide embrace of 180 paintings ever since.