I was horse mad as a kid and was lucky enough, for a couple of years, to have my own pony. We had a large garth at the front of our house where she would sometimes be left to graze and, on warm evenings, I would go outside in the dark and lie on her back with my head on her rump gazing at the stars. Our bodies joined we would sway together as she moved from patch to patch of grass, her scented heat keeping away the chill of the night, as I contemplated the vastness of the Universe and my miniscule place in it. I felt not only at one with her, but at one with all things, even then. Nothing has changed now I’m a grown up.

I’ve been working on this image for a few weeks now. It’s been complicated to do so I’ve kept putting it down and picking it back up again when time and energy allowed. I’ll probably get points off from a judge for leaving some of the texture I’ve added on both my skin and that of the horse but I care not. It’s almost as if some judges are reading from a script rather than judging mood and cohesion. I like it and that’s all that counts 😊

I initially photographed myself nude but, to be honest, I’m not a fan of nudity in art, 99% of which feels gratuitous. An image like this might be the 1% exception but, even so, maintaining my modesty by introducing a chest covering I don’t think detracts from the picture in any way and I am happier to not have my breasts on full show.

I’ve changed my mind on horses now I’m older and think breaking a horses Spirit for human pleasure is beyond cruel, not to mention the barbaric practice of kicking its ribs to force it to move or shoving a humongous slab of metal in its mouth to steer it, but I didn’t know any better as a child. I’d like to think that, wherever my pony is now, her Spirit is free from human shackles and she can run with her herd wild and free.