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Please read the following in a slightly posh Scottish Accent.
Here’s the thing. Ask yourself why you wish to read this? What is it that you want to know and how will it influence your view of the art I sooo lovingly produce?
I could proudly (or sheepishly) tell you that I’m pretty much self-taught. Would that shift your opinion of my work from positive to negative or vice versa?
I might ramble on that I’m (yawn) ‘#blessed’ to be living on the Gold Coast, Australia with my ever supportive handsome husband and my inconceivably wise daughter, Ponks. Not to mention my rescue Pussy Dog who sports two dodgy kneecaps and a phobia of cats. Would these inconsequential facts sway you in any way?
Would it matter if I explained to you, at times, my patience threshold ebbs and flows, heavily influencing my decision to work in either quick drying acrylics or slower than a week in the jail oils? Are you getting the drift here?
It may be of interest to you that music is a must when I paint and more often than not I can listen to the same song over and over and over….until that particular canvas has been flogged within an inch of it’s colourful little life; the dulcet tones of a particular chanteur (yes, that’s French, impressive or what, eh?) perpetually embedded between the weave of the canvas and it’s layers of paint. Silenced for all eternity. Say that last sentence like Gandalf would say it. Couldn’t help yourself could you?
You might be absorbed in the story of exactly how I fell into painting ten years ago but really, would that change what appeals to you in my work?
You could be intrigued by what inspires me: the desire to highlight the essential prerequisite for a happy life – connection. By portraying a lack thereof (through some of my figures having no dimension or colour), I see my paintings as a positive reminder to do the opposite. All too often we can be disconnected; busily ruminating about a humorous comment we’ve made in September 2003 to a lift full of shoppers on a miserable Saturday afternoon after tripping upon entry and wondering “Did that comment offend anyone that day and how stupid did I look?” Oh wait… is that just me?
My point is or rather my question is, does any of the above matter? Are you the kind of person who buys art based on what others think, past performance, how cool the artist appears to be, if it has the right blue in it or the artist’s credentials back up what you feel might be good work? Or, do you buy art just because you like it? If you are any of these or none of the these, it is of no consequence.
What matters, I think, is, do you love what you see? Do you like my art? Does it make you happy? Does… it… make…YOU… happy? Even the creepy guy who buys the saddest, darkest piece of art possibly imagined is happy when he hands over his dosh is he not?
If my art does make you happy then I am sincerely humbled and the creative right hemisphere of my brain is gleefully jumping up and down on it’s tiny, neuron legs.
And you, what about you? What will you do about it? Will you hang that bit of happiness on your wall?
I also ruminate about punctuation and just cannot drink out of dark blue mugs.
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