Collecting eggs before a session

Before the studio doors open, there is a basket to fill. It is a quiet twenty minutes and honestly the best part of the day — cold air, the barn still dark, the flock grumbling about being disturbed.

The eggs come in brown and cream and the occasional strange pale green, and they go straight onto the shop table. Whatever is left at the end of the day usually becomes lunch.

It is a small thing, but it sets the tone. This is a working farm first, and the art happens inside the rhythm of it rather than alongside.