Throughout this thesis process, I have envisioned myself using my paintings. I have not been entirely sure where they would go in. In my life I have never actually painted as much as I am doing now, and especially not with the idea of using them for a particular collection. I also didn't foresee my Conte drawings becoming what they are to me now. It’s strange how even when you don't think you have a fixed idea of what your own creativity is, you actually do. I feel confused pretty often about what the particular artwork is - whether it should mean something particular and if it should be of a particular place. But the good stuff never really comes out of strategy. I have to keep fighting my desire to make something beautiful and relevant in order to bring out stuff that are behind my eyes and without my knowing. I am discovering a darkness in my work that I haven't seen before. It surprises me when I see some of the things that I draw and paint and they make me wonder...
' ‘I wandered through the violent terrain, listening to the laughter of mischievous spirits. There was a crescent moon in the sky, darkness over houses, broken bottles and splintered wood on the road. I wandered barefoot. Fires sprouted over rubbish heaps, men were dragged out of cars, thick smoke billowed from houses. Stumbling along, looking for mum, I found myself in a dark street. There was a solitary candle burning on a stand near an abandoned house. I heard a deep chanting that made the street tremble. Shadows stormed past, giving off a stench of sweat and rage. Drums vibrated in the air. A cat cried out as if it had been thrown on to a fire. Then a gigantic Masquerade burst out of the road, with plumes of smoke billowing from its head. I gave a frightened cry and hid behind a stall. The Masquerade was terrifying and fiery, its funereal roar filled the street with an ancient silence. I watched it in horror. I watched it by its shadow of a great tree burning, as it danced in the empty street.
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