They're essentially frustrating-things I glimpse out of the corner of my eye, but which disappear as soon as I try to look at them directly. For me, they're always peripheral. Elusive shadows, as you say. They modify the color of whatever they're gliding over, but they don't seem to have any color of their own. As for shape and structure, I only have the vaguest impression . . . Are they shadows? Shadows of something else? Adrian Stamford, a genetic engineer, is something of a genius in his field, but also has a special ability: to see nuances in color that no one he has ever met can see, which has led him to be hired by Yorkshire industrialist Jason Jarndyke to develop biotech cloths of unique and exquisite color-and maybe even an authentic Golden Fleece. But Jarndyke's beautiful wife, Angie, has a special ability, and secrets, of her own. The Elusive Shadows is a tale of the biotech revolution, post-contemporary art, and color as both the ultimate medium of expression and a concealed source of fear.