Jo has been laying dry stone walls around the Cotswolds for over 30 years, and she and I walked out to into the fields to find one she could get to grips with, so to speak. There is a wonderful sense of permanence to dry stone walls, they’re almost monuments, like mini Stone Henge’s threading through the countryside, many of them hundreds of years old. My original idea had been for her to put her hands through the middle of a wall, so that they emerged from the stone. Of course that wasn’t possible as dry stone walls don’t have holes in them and I’m an idiot. Still we managed to get pretty close to what I had in mind, and her hands were beautifully worn and textured from hefting stones about.