Blackberry Picking, 2024
Briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots round hayfields, cornfields and potato drills, 2024
Acrylic, charcoal, graphite and PVA on canvas
60 x 48 x 3/4 in
Briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots round hayfields, cornfields and potato drills II, 2024
Acrylic, charcoal, graphite and PVA on canvas
40 x 30 x 1 1/8 in
Sun Up to Sun Down - Alberta, 2024
Acrylic, charcoal, graphite and crisp packet on canvas
40 x 30 x 1 1/8 in
Alberta, 2024
Acrylic, charcoal on paper
42 x 59cm
Alberta 2, 2024
Acrylic, charcoal on paper
42 x 59cm
Alberta 3, 2024
Acrylic, charcoal on paper
59 x 42cm
Alberta 4, 2024
Acrylic, charcoal on paper
59 x 42cm
Alberta 5, 2024
Acrylic, charcoal on paper
59 x 42cm
The Blackberry Picking series is a body of work in which Thomas has leaned more heavily into mark-making and used language more explicitly. Working with found text and imagery filtered through personal history, he unearths layered meanings—echoes of place and the quiet tension between presence and absence. These works weave the personal and the collective, where gesture and word converge.
Alberta I-V
The five Alberta works, which are part of the Blackberry Picking series, form a cohesive constellation of gesture, surface, and memory. Each composition presents a layered field where presence is felt more than declared. Figures suggested in outline or partial form emerge and dissolve in equal measure. There is a sense of drift: of forms hovering at the threshold between body and trace, between what is remembered and what resists articulation.
Across all five, the line is a recurring language. Fine, broken, sometimes frantic, it moves between the anatomical and the script-like, drawing the viewer into a quiet choreography of looking. These lines sometimes describe, sometimes evoke, often looping or faltering mid-form, as if pulled from a fraying memory.
Colour operates subtly, worn into the surface: dusty yellows, pale pinks, and washed greys are scraped, rubbed, and reworked. The resulting textures carry the feel of something weathered. A surface that has been handled, re-entered, and allowed to erode. They offer not clarity but atmosphere, recalling sun-faded fabric, scorched fields, or the patina of old walls.
Words appear not as captions or explanations but as part of the visual fabric. Scribbled, crossed out, layered over or fading into the background, they suggest something diaristic, intimate, and unresolved. Their legibility shifts depending on proximity and light, mirroring the instability of memory itself.
What holds these works together is a shared tension: between concealment and revelation, gesture and silence. Rather than telling a story, they create space, a space for lingering, for not knowing, for the slow work of recognition. There is restraint here, but also tenderness and a sense that something once held is being offered again. Not directly, but through its lingering marks.