I use linocut printmaking to find a sense of self-assurance and serenity. What this means to me is ever-changing, but there are a few aspects that remain consistent. There is the pleasure of creating an image that I find beautiful, the gratification of using traditional carving tools to reveal an image in a lino block, and the satisfaction of manually pressing Japanese paper onto the carved, inked surface in repetitive action to create an edition of prints. It feels purposeful and honest. But there is another way that I find refuge in my work, and this has come by way of patient persistence and quiet reflection.
When I decided to become a printmaker, I did so following years of working in a variety of art world environments. I had grown accustomed to engaging with art by means of my analytical brain, since I often needed to write or speak about art to communicate something about it to a viewer or audience. So it was logical to me that when I began to make my own work, I should lay out the ideas that I wanted to convey with the piece before I made the print so that people could make sense of it. However, I soon grew uninspired and struggled to come up with new ideas. In a moment of meditation I decided that I would reverse my approach, and instead I would only make images that were exciting to me visually. In the instant that I gave myself permission to explore my imagination freely, my creative block lifted and my work became something far more inspiring. The images themselves began to reflect back to me my authentic self without my having to control them.
I choose to feature my own body, and to gouge out strong manoeuvring lines to express the smooth coil of a physique. I set these against soft tones and organic forms that combine to create delicate and reassuring patterns. The act of creating art has taught me that I am at my most powerful when I choose to let go and act from a place of trust and ease. Each time I look at my work I am reminded of this fact, and nothing could give me more reassurance and peace.