I have often walked into the studio at night when all the lights are out and the moon casts moving shafts of pearlescent light onto the floor. These fleeting moments turn into instances of excitement which are rapidly gone. The studio at night is another land, of shadows and lights that throw thoughts of work in different directions. Four nights ago there was no moonlight but I saw a moment in the night-life of the chapel that captured the expectant sense I have when walking into it. The table where I draw, where my work meets Janet’s, a permeable membrane where ideas are filtered and passed to and fro between us.