Drawing: Bath Priory Hotel Garden

I've always been attracted to statue busts in 'untidy' corners. There is something stoic and rather melancholic about them. Fixed and staring out into space. They are like lost souls longing for home. They often bear the mark of time due to their long exposure to the weather. They can accumulate a peculiar patina which becomes a metaphor for life experience. Sometimes pock-marked and chipped they become little mirrors of our own thoughts.