1998 Yet Another Statement
What comes first – a natural observer who becomes and outsider as a result or a natural outsider who therefore becomes and observer?
It seems as if life as an outsider/observer is an occupational hazard of being a painter, perhaps it is a predisposition in the personality of the person who is driven to this occupation. If so, I would imagine it is the same for writers.
As I was standing at my kitchen sink washing dishes, and as I was wringing out the soapy water from the dishcloth to wipe the counter – an activity that I could conceivably perform anywhere in the world – I thought: “This is different to what could have been”. In other words: “This isn’t what I expected”.
If I hadn’t been bored standing at my kitchen sink in London in 1967 and looking for travel and adventure, then I wouldn’t be standing at a sink here in Thunder Bay in 1998.
This time I was thinking about my family, all so far away, and how I wish I could easily drop in on them when they needed someone or when I wanted to see them – my ailing mother in England, my sister in Australia, my son in Edmonton and my son and grandson in Toronto……
What comes first – the necessary solitude of someone who is a painter or the essential solitude that creates a painter?
I have no real home and often ask myself where it is that I really belong. I already asked myself that question when I was a girl living in my parent’s home.
Paradoxically, everywhere is home. I have been uprooted many times, always at my own choosing, and have always built my home around me. I do not live out of a suitcase, am not a nomad in that sense. I have built places of security and comfort wherever I have remained for a time, from a few days to several years. Making art is part of that process. When it comes right down to it: home is where I paint.
My painting is less influenced by the place I am living in or by a change to a new place, than by the sense of being rootless, by the idea of journeying and of finding new places in which to be. And of having the freedom to be anywhere. There is constant observation of pace and self, and little likelihood of falling into habit. I am fairly obsessive about avoiding habitual behaviour.
While this moving around has been a hazard and may have been a hindrance to the steady development of my work – it may also be a positive factor reflecting the need for change and adventure as a fundamental concept governing my life and painting. An image which carries resonance for me is of life itself as a journey and that each painting is a journey or perhaps a conversation about moving. Displacement and travel are seen as a metaphor for the internal quest that becomes its own reason for persisting.
What comes first – a natural observer who becomes and outsider as a result or a natural outsider who therefore becomes and observer?
It seems as if life as an outsider/observer is an occupational hazard of being a painter, perhaps it is a predisposition in the personality of the person who is driven to this occupation. If so, I would imagine it is the same for writers.
As I was standing at my kitchen sink washing dishes, and as I was wringing out the soapy water from the dishcloth to wipe the counter – an activity that I could conceivably perform anywhere in the world – I thought: “This is different to what could have been”. In other words: “This isn’t what I expected”.
If I hadn’t been bored standing at my kitchen sink in London in 1967 and looking for travel and adventure, then I wouldn’t be standing at a sink here in Thunder Bay in 1998.
This time I was thinking about my family, all so far away, and how I wish I could easily drop in on them when they needed someone or when I wanted to see them – my ailing mother in England, my sister in Australia, my son in Edmonton and my son and grandson in Toronto……
What comes first – the necessary solitude of someone who is a painter or the essential solitude that creates a painter?
I have no real home and often ask myself where it is that I really belong. I already asked myself that question when I was a girl living in my parent’s home.
Paradoxically, everywhere is home. I have been uprooted many times, always at my own choosing, and have always built my home around me. I do not live out of a suitcase, am not a nomad in that sense. I have built places of security and comfort wherever I have remained for a time, from a few days to several years. Making art is part of that process. When it comes right down to it: home is where I paint.
My painting is less influenced by the place I am living in or by a change to a new place, than by the sense of being rootless, by the idea of journeying and of finding new places in which to be. And of having the freedom to be anywhere. There is constant observation of pace and self, and little likelihood of falling into habit. I am fairly obsessive about avoiding habitual behaviour.
While this moving around has been a hazard and may have been a hindrance to the steady development of my work – it may also be a positive factor reflecting the need for change and adventure as a fundamental concept governing my life and painting. An image which carries resonance for me is of life itself as a journey and that each painting is a journey or perhaps a conversation about moving. Displacement and travel are seen as a metaphor for the internal quest that becomes its own reason for persisting.