They told me I couldn’t… so I did.

I read this statement somewhere recently, and it took me straight back to my 16 year old rebellious self and probably the only time I ever wilfully disobeyed my parents and got away with it.

You see, I always wanted to study art, but my parents decided that art school was no place for a young lady, it was full of ‘drop-outs, bearded weirdos and drug addicts’ (their words not mine). They forbid me to go, end of! But that wasn’t the end of the story…

The ‘escape’ room

At high school, the art room was my sanctuary, quite literally sometimes. Being bullied constantly by a couple of girls, I would ‘escape’ there after the last class on the pretext of finishing some piece of work, stay for an hour, then walk the 3 miles home, rather than risk bumping into them on the school bus.

I was good at drawing, and loved painting, sculpture and pottery. And it was all of these ‘self-preservation’ after-school sessions with two of the most generous art teachers that made it possible for me to get together a strong portfolio to present at my art college, which was great, because a terrible error could have scuppered all that.

Art or commerce?

At the end of the previous school year, we had been given the choice to sign up to attend the local technical college for business studies every Friday afternoon in our final year. Being allowed ‘out of school’ felt so grown up, so of course, I put my name down. Little did I know that the only art lessons that year would ALSO be scheduled for Friday afternoons and I’d be missing them. When the realisation dawned I kicked up a stink, but I was not allowed to swap back to art – my favourite, my BEST subject. I was devastated. So, from that moment on, you’d find me every lunchtime and evening, in the art room, working on my portfolio.

 Chance meeting or destiny?

One Friday lunchtime, early September, I bumped into an old friend who had left school the previous year, and had just finished the foundation course at the art college, and had just started the fashion course. Chatting about how much she was enjoying it got me all excited and curious, so when she said “Why don’t you come back with me now and I will introduce you to my tutors”, I jumped at the chance!
It was magic. The smell of paint from the art studios, and the whirring of sewing machines in the fashion department. All of it so exciting to a 16 year old.
I had a long talk with her head tutor and was asked to bring in my portfolio – which I did that very afternoon. By teatime, I’d signed up to start college on Monday morning in the fashion department! I only told my parents the night before, so they couldn’t stop me.
I loved every moment and went on to enjoy an amazing career in fashion, and must say, it has been such an incredible source of inspiration for me. Travel to exotic places, exquisite textiles, beautiful patterns and colours – all the things I love are now represented in my art.

Becoming an artist.

It took the lockdown to catapult me back where I feel I’ve always belonged. In an art studio!

I don’t remember the exact moment I owned up to being an artist instead of an ‘artist’ in inverted commas. By that I mean, for a long time, there was definitely ‘imposter syndrome’ at play. I felt I was using the title without permission.

This was especially true in the early days of 2020, when I quit my career in fashion design and writing to devote time to my art. I was working on a tiny table in my bedroom, and somehow, that cramped, and mess-making set up was testament to the amateur nature of my endeavours. This is not how it was supposed to feel. I’d waited so many years to be able to stop work and paint (originally planned to be 6 years earlier) and now at last the time had come. It was fun, but it didn’t feel real.

 So, was it when I took Louise Fletcher’s ‘Find Your Joy’ course for the first time, or maybe the follow-on course ‘Find Your Voice’? Quite possibly! She was and is an incredible influence on my artist mentality.
Or was it the day I moved into my very own studio? I think maybe that’s also a huge factor. And I have my husband to thank for both – and I do, every day. He bought me the courses for my birthday, and he made my studio.

 Probably sick to death of the mess and smell of paint in our bedroom, he suggested he turn our grown-up-and-flown-the-nest-daughter’s old attic bedroom into a studio for me – in time for the start of the course he’d bought me. Result!

 He’s a keen DIYer but he’s slow and meticulous… a bit of a perfectionist. It took a couple of months to do but wow he made such an amazing job of it.

 IKEA up-cycling king!

We were gifted a cartload of old Ikea shelving units and we already had an old Ikea wardrobe... and he managed to recycle all of these tall, upright units into much deeper lower shelves to fit under the steep, uneven, and curving eaves of our 400-year-old sloping roof. Quite a miracle of perseverance and rather a lot of measuring and re-measuring.

 What he has achieved is nothing short of brilliant. I think he may be the king of Ikea up-cycling! There’s ample space to hold all my art books, my journals, paints, mediums, and spare equipment etc., with room spare for storing paintings that are ready and framed.

I did a bit of up-cycling myself too – my late mother-in-law’s 50’s Formica top kitchen table is my painting table, and my late mum’s old hospital-style table on wheels that she ate her meals on every day as she got frailer, now holds my brushes and palette. These are daily reminders of two of the most wonderful, strong and resilient women in my life.

 Now all I need is some way to fit in an upright painting wall. Hmmmm...... a tricky one with those steep sloping roofs, but if I know my hubby, he will find a way.