I thought I’d explain a little about the work that’s coming out of my studio right now as I’m really thinking about connection and disconnection right now.

Do you ever get a word or phrase that just sticks in your head?

Well, this is in mine and I can’t shake it. I don’t know whether it’s because of this pandemic and how we are thrown a breadcrumb of restrictions being lifted, followed soon by a reversal, and the return of a real reality seems unending.

Or, it could be something deep-rooted as I have increasingly found the need for connection with others. I have missed seeing friends and family. Working at home, like many, I am on Zoom - a way to connect us, but also an unreal sense of connection. Working from home forces our private spaces to become wide open to people we have not asked to share them with. We have to be selective about what people can see - yes, I may look tidy, but I also have messy/ unfinished spaces off-screen. Yet this has been the only human connection many of us have experienced. I found myself wishing for group interaction when in reality I am very much an introvert in many situations - I can cope with being around people, but only for so long. Give me my childhood den made of blankets and a clothes airer to crawl back into with a book and I am happy.

And this got me thinking about how we are all dealing with this thing called life under the same sky, stars, sun and moon. But we are all dealing with things differently, dealing with different emotions and problems.

The ‘windows’, as I call them, in the paintings are perhaps just the glimpses we are trying to get into different lives. Some of the shapes gather into a community, some go their own way, some almost drifting off the canvas. Each window to me is individual, unique, remarkable, unremarkable, fleeting, distancing, improvised or decisive. A history reveals, entices you to look closer, inspect, look behind the curtain, searching for something that is often elusive. I’ve noticed the most recent paintings have developed into architectural-like compositions. This is not planned or intentional. I let the process lead me where it’s meant to end up.

Another thing I’m wrestling with is that sometimes I am obsessed with calming the intentional chaos with muted colours, other times I want the vibrancy and energy of strong colours. Is this wrong? Should I stick with one colour palette and a formula for a composition? Nope, no way! I break rules in my paintings (but not in life, interestingly). Life is too short to worry about that kind of thing and I have confidence that my process will show me the way.

The process is the journey. The journey is the gift I give to you, whether that is just by sharing the digital image or whether you purchase a painting. The painting may have been a rollercoaster of decisions, emotions, problem-solving, doubt, regret, successes, and joy.

This connection and disconnection theme, I feel, will rumble on and stay with me for a while, and for that I am grateful and hope to bring you more intriguing paintings.