Knowle Hill

In the heat of endless summer, a grassy hill can become a boundless world.
Halcyon days merge as grass tickled feet sprint to the top. Beads of sweat dry on salty skin.
The pressures of adulthood are far from sight, so far that the horizon lifts and falls before adolescence, and summer days end long before dark.
Childhood embodies a constant unveiling, boundaries blur between the newly imagined and the just discovered. We assume the roles of explorers, venturing into uncharted territories both external and internal, unearthing treasures and perils alike. Local haunts take on preternatural significance, as the grassy knoll becomes an ancient tomb and the crooked tree morphs into a bandits lair.
View these works through lenses of renewal, rekindle moments long past, from a time of primordial personhood. Forage in the undergrowth of nostalgia, under a dense thicket of culture and conditioning, until we may delight in the archaeology of our innocence and the artefacts we unearth.