When I close my eyes it’s like I see a film reel, a really high-speed stop frame animation. Recalled memories of a life captured and mashed together. I’m confronted, maybe even assaulted with split second flashes of what look like strands of vivid colour. It’s a double-edge sword. There’s this moment, this impression of happiness then the deep sense of loss and absence kick in.
I feel this pull towards a darkness like a world in shadow. It’s a pretty scary place to be but I suppose at the same time there’s a certain comfort as it’s familiar, I know what to expect, I don’t have to feel.
When I paint the way I do with bright colours and texture I know they’re not an accurate recall but everything is heightened, and at times muddled/merged together, sometimes memories collide, and when I work with the paint, adhesives sand, whatever it is for textures, it’s quite a physical act. I get to reconstruct, I get to act out the gentlest of brushstrokes to very aggressive strokes, I’m not even sure if reconstruct is the right word, but the work, it’s something I can see and when it’s complete I can physically and emotionally touch it. That connection becomes something positive.
I suppose you could say a connection to the universe, perhaps even spiritual.
I think it’s important to feed that emotion back out into the world.
