The Fellowship's Silhouette Against Snow-capped Peaks — Print & Oil Painting

There is no colour and there is barely any tone. The figures are pure black, the ridge they walk on is pure black, and behind them a bank of fog and a range of snow peaks are worked in silver-greys that never approach either extreme. Everything in the picture is either a hole or a haze.

Which means all the information is in the outlines, and the outlines have been drawn with a good deal of care. A man striding at the front with a scabbard swinging clear of his hip. A pony with a high square load lashed on and its head down. Four small figures with round packs and cloaks that reach their calves. A tall shape with a round shield slung on its back. A figure caught mid-stride with a bow held out horizontally. And, closing the line at the right, a pointed hat, a bent back and a staff.

They are moving from right to left along the crest of a hill, and the ground under them rises slightly as it goes, so the file is climbing. The spacing is uneven in a way that feels observed rather than designed: two of the small figures are almost touching, another has fallen a few paces behind.

The mountains behind are the only part of the image with any texture, and they are magnificently unhelpful. Snowfields, hanging valleys and dark rock bands are all legible, but the whole range floats free of the ridge in a bank of mist, so there is no way to tell whether it is a mile away or twenty.

The pleasure of this kind of picture is that it will not name anybody, and yet nobody has any trouble. Each of these outlines has been made recognisable by one accessory, which is a fair test of how thoroughly a company of walkers has entered the general furniture of the language. Part of our Lord of the Rings collection, alongside the same group painted in the snow itself and another silhouette study of the same march.