Story behind the art
"I cannot remove myself from the boy. The boy who took the bus into Wakefield with pocket money, got off the bus in Wood Street and with eager anticipation went to the most magical place in his young heart, the Eagle Press shop in Wood Street. There the boy would buy one or two sheets of manilla paper, and he would leave into the Saturday market crowd with his prized treasure.
"What the boy made of the paper is now beyond my memory, but here I am still clutching the pen and touching the paper. The boy is still here, and although many years and many miles from Wakefield and the Eagle Press, I feel, simply, I owe it to the boy."
Terry Durham - 4th March 2003
"The real world for me as an artist has no bearing in the act of making my paintings. Yes, I see the trees and mountains, the sea and the landscape in which they are placed and I marvel in the beauty, but it is the world that I create in the paintings that I truly inhabit.
"I strive to make real on the surfaces I work on the images from my subconscious; the flora and fauna of the real world are obviously an influence on me as they should, but the way I see them is my way of seeing.
"It could be said that I try to see the way a child sees, without any of the adult restraints. I am aware that I am not alone in this aim; others before me have pursued the same path, however that does not diminish my goal for a personal vision.
"I create myths and dreamscapes along with animals, mermaids and mountebanks who inhabit this world of magic. I move freely in this other place and gaze into the eyes of dreamers. I swim in a sea where flowers sing to fishes.
"I sometimes feel that the images are already there in the air, waiting for me to give them a permanent place in solid time. As I get older this becomes more and more a real quest, more important to make this other place concrete for all to see, and maybe let others see my wonderland and bid them enter and perhaps let them be aware that other worlds can be entered through the mind's eye."
Terry Durham - January 2002