I can’t believe it… I’m making art, and enjoying it. This is getting on for a first, in absolutely donkey’s years.
It’s not just that I’m doing it at all. That in itself is something. It’s that I feel as if everything up to this point is somehow coalescing, in a good and meaningful way.
I’m no longer fretting about my diverse magpie strands of interest. I literally seem to have shed that complicated sense of impostership, to mint a new word.
I’m happy to take whatever I’m interested in – which is very varied – draw on it (note artsy pun), and then synthesise and filter it. Or should that be vice versa?