Interestingly enough, “casting about” is a term that originates from one of   the oldest arts known to man: hunting. It isn’t, however, necessarily just about   the ravenous search for game; the hounds would cast about for a long-lost scent,   for the spoor of an animal that, whilst missing, is retained in memory. Many of   Dalwood’s sculptures - like the one pictured above (“Aviatrix”) - carry the   whiff of a reverent classicism. Her works betray a number of spirited yet   precarious returns, fresh in their own right, to the many renditions of   classicism that have persisted throughout history. 
              However, it would be wrong to presume that her work maintains some kind of   blind obeisance to time-honoured tradition. In fact, there is something that is   subtly playful and unassumingly voguish about the Dalwoodian art of casting.  It   is as if those flowing flowing tassles made of concrete, or the dragoon with   a miniature Tower Bridge perched upon his hat, or that aeroplane resting on a neatly wrapped turban, are   examples of how classically-inspired work, far from being always already   conventional or hackneyed, can be reborn into something refreshingly   imaginative.