I was brought up in a loving home but with little exposure to life beyond our working-class bubble. Little wonder that at 14 I wanted to be an actor but had no clue how you became an actor (that’s a story for another day), or at 18 I chose to leave education and “get a job” as I believed that going to art college was pointless. The adults in my life were nurses, hairdressers, secretaries, engineers and as for “uncle” Roy, I don’t think anyone really knew what he did!
It’s understandable that committing to a truly creative life has been somewhat difficult for me. Add to this my limited exposure to contemporary art or creative careers and it’s easy for me to see why I have the internal blocks I have. The only exposure I had at home growing up was a fake Constable print in our lounge and watching Rofl Harris create murals and later constant feedback from my husband that he only really liked detailed paintings of boats and barges. I had a great art teacher at school and whilst we could call him a modern painter, he still strongly perpetuated the myth of “high art” – art that was somehow better than that produced by a hobbyist – the art of those who exhibit in the Tate or Royal Academy. Whilst I have tried to break down the internal barriers I have to making “art” the external and institutional barriers remain…but there seems to be a shif