Ruth Watson's practice of creating maps urges us to explore for ourselves the way in which we perceive, shape and re-present our world. In describing her Cry Me a River installation she addresses the ubiquity of maps and their significance to her own work:

"In the west, we are surrounded by maps in everyday life: street directories, site indicators, guides, road maps. The world map is also a familiar image and who hasn't watched, even if zombie-like, the world maps on in-flight screens showing us the passage of day and night and our little moving sign upon it? Maybe you pored over atlases as a child, or had one on a wall. But we've inherited some unquestioned conventions along with our worldly imaginings - north at the top, the precedence of land over sea, the centrality of either Europe or the Americas, rectangular or near-rectangular projections that privilege northern latitudes, and more... our view of the world and our place in it has been affected by these conventions.

Maps, even at their most useful, are finally products of our desire, whether for information, control, or just amusement. Perhaps the metaphoric connection made by musical lyricist Arthur Hamilton - author of the classic song whose title I've poached for this work- isn't only metaphorical, but a reminder that the worlds we feel and understand are mutable, contingent and sometimes fragile."