It’s been a messy few months and my practice feels like it’s taken a hit but upon reflection maybe it hasnt.

I’ve been channelling my frustrations in to painting, something I haven’t done for a couple of years which is odd as my practice before the MA was paint based.

The layers have come back: add, subtract, repeat. This time layering on the watery paint, moving it around, removing the excess with tissue and cloth and repeating the process once dry.

Most of the work has been happening at night, in the garden, under the odd lighting in the yard. The process was the important element, the carthesis of movement, liquid, fibre.

I made bad work - I knew it was bad but had to get through it. I worked with some words I’d collected, moved them around, photographed them, arranged them.

I stuck some of them down on a piece card I had been playing around on with graphite putty and water soluble graphite. It got worse.

I persevered, it's going somewhere now, I not sure where but something is emerging from the haze.