Morocco is a gift to an artist, it became my muse whilst I was studying in Seville but I suspect my love of Islamic architecture, Southern light and Arabic culture began much earlier growing up in the Middle East. The strong contrasts of light and shade, rich colours and dusty streets and the layers created by ornate gateways, shuttered windows, veiled figures.

The pace of life seems tidal; early flurries of activities and then stillness gradually descends with the heat of the day. As dusk falls, marked by the call to prayer from the muezzin, the streets come alive again with a colourful crowd. To me it is a magical time and I can’t help looking at everything that is going on. Who walks together, who stands alone? Who gazes at a face unseen, who, eyes downward, wearily leans? Who stops and waits? Who hurries by?