Pure and endless light

There has been extraordinarily little bright sunlight in the far northwest corner of Britain over the past year. Damp, drizzling summer, an endless sequence of howling autumnal gales and downpours, a muddy dismal winter. Then at the beginning of February, by some accounts traditionally a season for good weather in northern Scotland, a series of brilliant sparkling days arrived unannounced. While the rest of the country shivered and dripped, the sun in the north bounced off the sea, the hills were brilliant with deep snow, the night sky was clear and starry, northern lights pulsing on the horizon and the moon bright enough to read by.

Enough to turn anyone’s fancy to Gerard Manley Hopkins. And this is what happens to Ann Wroe. Walking on the Sussex Downs, she observes the effects of light on the world around her, contemplates its source, its nature, its qualities and ponders how others have analysed it, observed and recorded it in words, on paper and canvas, even translated it into music.