It’s occurred to me in the past few months, which have been eventful to say the least, that often, I paint to fill a hole inside of me. I get to a stage where I want to fill the page so I fill a hole. I don’t know whether this makes any sense to anyone, but it’s almost like a distraction, especially the decorative patterns from my 2018 artworks. I can’t stand the silence, I can’t stand the stillness that there can be when making work, and so I paint lots and lots of colour, patterns, so that I don’t have to face the silence.
So far in 2019, my works have been monochrome, often black on white. I am facing the stillness, I am facing the empty space. I am facing the unknown. Letting things unfold naturally, following the trail it’s taken me to. It’s bloody difficult, and often I wanna give up. These works are so different from my usual, they are so bare, and stripped off of any decorative elements. So I continue, I face the fears.