Yian was supposed to write a brief bit for this piece. He missed the deadline so our Writer-in-Residence, Baley, decided to do the dis-honours:

One can, through the eyes and lenses of others, observe the skies, the waters and the humid mid-afternoon air of autumns gone by. Technology breeds perfection - while human sleep succeeds human sleep; art mirrors the human condition that creates it - nothing more; the creative forces that shackle reality together articulate the "it" of nature - nothing more; both art and the nature that shelters it are of a trickster's ego - nothing more; the present bears the mark of leprosy - while the future clouds itself in silver sheets; this I've learned: you can always debate art, you can always analyse and re-imagine it, you can always invent wondrous new meanings and characteristics to describe it - it's all pretty much bollocks (in the end) compared to a quaint highway picnic, champagne and beef-jerky in hand, sun shining away on the horizon.

Yeah, I feel all critiquish now.

And I've just invented a wondrous new word. Hail me.