"As we emerged from the underground each day, we shed our wet, yellow slickers and hung them in baskets high in the dry, the locker room. They looked like figures slumped high above my head. Now in my studio, my slicker hangs high in its basket ...a skin of a former life. On the windowsill, Mrs. Butterworth sits as the motionless matron. Outside, children and garden grow. Not far away, gold is leached by the rainbird." Exhibition held in the Street Level Gallery space.