In my more recent work I  imagine a world in the future after the climate has long tipped and there are few traces left of the things we built. The sun is hot, the winds severe and the water high, but the views look glorious. There are only a few survivors left to roam the landscape, looking for divine guidance. As for their state of mind, I think of the captives in Plato’s allegory of the cave: Just as they mistake the shadows from the puppeteers behind their backs as signs of the divine, my survivors impose their ideas of the divine onto the world they see. Maybe supernatural beings stand by as silent witnesses, but do not interfere on behalf of the humans. To be painting these invented landscapes and beings is as much about climate grief, escapism into a future world as an act of devotion to the beauty of the natural world, and a power we hold within us. They are about the human need for myth making when facing wild space alone.