A few weeks ago I was staying with my eldest daughter, Holly, in Brighton. A short break away from home and my last children getting ready to leave, imbuing the house with a strange melancholy I was glad to escape.
Waking early and seeing the impossibly bright light scoring the most intense white line along the edge of the blind, I was thinking about my love of working in black and white and how it has stayed with me for the entire length of the first two years of my degree. Have I grown, or have I just kept myself safe in this obsession, barely ever using any colour? Somehow I cannot separate myself from it, the allure of the contrast, the pure cleanness, so stark, so un-fussy.
But I love colour! In my garden, in music, in nature, in my home, my clothes - colour takes my breath away a thousand times a day! ...and there, partially I think I find my answer.
Art is not everyday. Making artworks is something I dreamt of for over thirty years, yet dared not try - I loved art so deeply, I feared it would not love me back, but laugh at my witless devotion, my fervent longings..
Art, is all I wished for, and is, now we are reacquainted, so extraordinary, I need to lift it out of the everyday, the colour, the continuous over-stimulation of my annoyingly over-sensitive mind, and simplify it into something I can be at peace with, black, and white, the perfect contrast.
Entering my third and final year of the Fine Art BA, I am excited! So much still to learn, so much confidence to still be gained if I am to be able to work as an artist at the end of the degree..