Here, moths seed dreams under a misty moon

Four moths hang in the upper third against a pale worked ground; below them a field of flower heads is built almost entirely from discs — hundreds of them, outlined and filled in bone white, ochre, oxblood and slate, stacked on stems that are themselves narrow vertical bands of grey. The palette is deliberately dusty; the reds arrive rarely and land hard. At four feet square this is the largest painting in her Sanctuary collection and the one where the mosaic method is carried furthest from any single creature — the whole meadow is made of the same cell she uses for a feather. Seen from across a room it resolves into weather. Up close it never stops being individual marks.