'I cruised around and settled on the outskirts of the town near to some cotton mills and reservoirs. At this time I was making collages; I carried a large suitcase full of newspapers, copies of Picture Post
, seed catalogues, old bills, coloured papers and other scraps, together with a pair of scissors, a pot of gum and a bottle of indian ink. It was awkward sometimes in the wind, when my little pieces would fly about and I was shy of being watched at it; but it was a legitimate way I think, of inviting the god of chance to lend a hand in painting a picture.'
(Julian Trevelyan, Indigo Days, Macgibbon & Kee, London, 1957, p.84)