David Edwards begins his paintings with something real, then gradually lets it go. Photographic references establish a sense of place, but as the painting develops, they are put aside. Forms change, details disappear, and the original landscape gradually gives way to something imagined.

There is an interesting parallel here with memory. We begin with an experience, but over time we lose parts of it, alter others and fill in the gaps. What remains may no longer be an exact record, yet somehow it can feel completely real.

Edwards’ paintings seem to exist somewhere between the place that was there and the place we remember. They are not portraits of particular landscapes, but something less certain and perhaps more familiar: the way a place stays with us after we have left it.