Walking along a familiar path at dusk on a cold day in early February, I looked across the field to see two trees watching me from the boundary hedge. Huge oaks, ivy clad, with bare limbs, crazily angled, escaping the foliage. The trees were bedecked with rooks, that flew up noisily as I passed, arguing and swirling above and filling the air with their bad temper before settling back to roost. As I walked on the idea for "Haunting Trees" began to form. Trees haunting us and us haunting trees.

In the past all trees had meaning and power for the people living amongst them. Healing properties, the power to fend off witches and curses, shelter ghosts, foretell death, keep livestock safe, guard and mark the boundary fields. Even in this "modern" age, there is a reluctance to cut down holly trees, may blossom is unlucky indoors and yew is still associated with churchyards and death.

In the "Haunting Trees" project I hope to portray the omnipresent shape of the tree, sheltering, protecting and haunting. I like the idea of the huge timescale over which a tree can exist; the events that happen all around it. Seasons, centuries and all the tiny inconsequential moments of meetings, disasters and happiness that come and go beneath its indifferent boughs.