My beautiful, tortured double life.

Choosing to write this post has come with a degree of hesitation, but it’s relevancy in my life currently has been too strong not to express. One of the things I have always been most proud of is my commitment in pursuing my dreams. Part of this dream has often been to follow the more unbeaten path, take risks, and explore with an unwavering curiosity. For anyone who has known me over the last 10 years, undoubtedly knows of my time spent abroad. In 2006 I travelled outside my country for the first time to live a year abroad, alone at the age of 22, in Florence, Italy. The sense of belonging and fulfilment in this place was immediate. That was the beginning for me, a decade of unrest.

Fast forward, and I’ve since travelled back on 8 occasions, totalling 2 years, 8 months- and counting. Each trip comes with the affirmation that I will, maybe next time, stay. But in those years in between, of thinking, planning, wanting, waiting, life has continued to grow. The stakes of what I leave behind have become deeper, the emotions stronger. Details aside, what I really want to communicate is the feeling, the sensation of living between two lives. Part of this whirlwind of emotion is one of the most prevalent aspects of my painting. The flux as I move between places, memories, and identity. The movement back and forth has become a light switch. There is a constant motion of re-adapting as I travel between my worlds. With this has come sacrifice, impatience, and an almost constant anxiety of not knowing my next step. I put myself through it however, totally willingly, for the parts of my heart that have been filled in the web are beyond measure.

To look at my work then is to dive into my mind. My paintings are my life. They communicate the tension and release of all I can process. The one constant in my life is the desire to create. This outlet has with certainty been the one path I have always chosen to follow.