Studio Diaries
Spring, 2025
In this studio diary I explore my relationship to change as I comprehend the ongoing fluctuation of my life. Covering the good, the bad, and the ugly, I deep dive into the complexities of transformation, and how this has stood out to me in recent experiences of art.
I am adapting to a new environment to make my work in. Leaving an old studio space can be a lot to process for me, departing from the feelings and emotions brought to the creative process in that location: the cries, anguish, lethargy and empowerment, struggle and strength, or boredom and excitement of which the painting process brings out. Not to mention the beautiful connections I made there; I guess I am a sensitive person who finds any changes to my usual routine fills me with a sense of dread. While it would seem ridiculous, given this anxiety, that I would live in the most rapidly changing landscape in the country, I can equally imagine I would find life without this fluctuation quite dull.
Yet change, albeit it accelerated here, is an important aspect of life, reflected in nature. Humans have always been changing, and there’s an inherent need for growth that harks back to our ancient ancestors' need to develop for survival. Considering that change can sometimes mean the absence of what once was, it confronts us with the ultimate human fear of mortality. At an artist talk, Kat Lyon’s introduced a perspective of change that was less chilling given its absence of human centricity, commenting that the decay of things leaves space for new life to grow. She reminisced about an unfortunate culling of a tree outside her studio, yet reasoned it gave way for a housing development to be occupied by new life and home-building activities. Of course our human development needs to be less destructive to nature, and she shows a sensibility to environmental ethics in her paintings that decentres humanity within her exploration of the Anthropocene. The perspective that death or removal of the old is an invaluable stage of a natural cycle, making way for new possibilities, is helpful in dealing with the transience of a place you have to inhabit. I too will only be a temporary presence within this city, and perhaps its ever changing nature is just a challenge of my own inability to escape more miniscule changes in my own existence. Just as Lyon lamented her leafy studio companion, I too felt devastation when I realised a park I would frequently sit in aside my studio had been completely flattened. Inevitably making way for another shiny, characterless flat building, I was acutely aware prior that the manufactured park would be a temporary fixture. Perhaps the roses I enjoyed in the park, now perished, will be replaced by the bouquets of eventual residents of the flats. This awareness can be a powerful reminder of the importance of being present within the moment, and appreciating the things as change will never stop, and is quite a vital aspect of life as a whole.
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Roses (now perished) in a park outside my studio.
We see change reflected in so many destructive ways, be that driven by monetary greed or in spite of a disconnection with the needs of people, that it is quite understandable that any fluctuation may elicit a negative reaction. Further, the feelings manifested in a particular place give it an emotional depth, being my studio a microcosm of this, as we associate a particular area with the relationships, traditions and unique characteristics that imbued it with a texture we became attached to. I was affected by Noah Davis' retrospective at the Barbican which reflected this connection to the everyday. I was not only in awe of his painterly ability, his '1975' series being most aesthetically accomplished and demonstrating the strength of his figurative impressions, but also moved by the provocative images he produced from his imagination. However, the whimsicality of Davis's artistic trip is balanced with his social commentary, as to not over romanticize the past. This exposes the vital affects of change. I was moved by the exhibition, perhaps prompted by feeling a kinship with the late painter's sensitivity to the texture of life in his proximity. I am in awe of an artist who so effortlessly manages to be politically engaged whilst depicting the minutiae of existence around him with a magical intensity. Albeit, never self-assigning this political angle to his paintings; he simply wanted to expose the marginalised communities he lived in with authenticity, which consequently conceals portant comments on the complexities of his shared experience. In this work you can clearly interpret the championing of his neighbourhoods, sensing within the cinematic representations a painter who was attuned to the daily rhythms that surrounded him. Once communicated in paint marks, the artist's instincts may heighten or exaggerate aspects, but this only further confirms his eye's curiosity. 'Pueblo Del Rio: Arabesque' sticks in my mind as a work which is exquisitely graceful. However, this piece is imbued with a sense of sorrow, reflecting the hopeful image of envisioned utopias of garden cities, hence in avoidance of representing the brutal and neglected ghettos they became. The painting makes a statement on the power of art and architectural projects to transform lives, portraying in a wider sense our apprehension of change for many who share the experience of unsuccessful or soulless housing developments which permeate society.
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Noah Davis, 'Pueblo Del Rio: Arabesque'
Change can be positive if it has a focus on bettering the community or ecosystems. Beyond his sadly short, yet prolific career, Davis constructed the 'Underground Museum' to bring contemporary art to his neighbourhood, in the belief that anyone should have the access to educators, thinkers, and artists. I was so pleased to see this reflected in my own locality when a park's derelict public toilet was transformed into 'Outhouse', constructing a gallery space within the park and thus bringing artistic visions to an area enjoyed by the local community. I have been pleased to even exhibit myself here as a local resident. One of my favourite experiences was of the 'Shoe Museum' which was packed with so many great stories prompted by the variety of contributions of the garment made by individuals. It became a great celebration of the numerous ideas, experiences, and memories that can stem from the 'Shoe', insighting connection between us all due to the universal use of footwear. The success of this space in its short existence so far, becoming a site of collaboration, connection, or representing a diversity of experiences through the exhibitions hosted there, shows how the transformation of a community space can have a profoundly positive influence.
I see monotony is equally something to dread. In a recent series of gouache made for a 'Shoebox' publication, I contemplate being in a sort of purgatory, a sense of internal daydreaming about exterior possibilities, applied to apprehension of a dramatic happening. In this perspective, change is enlivening; sometimes a new experience is where life feels its most vivid. For example, a stage remains incredibly empty for an eternity until a dancer appears in what feels like a fleeting moment. States of extreme boredom can elicit the heights of the imagination, as the mind creates warpings of reality to break from the mundane. The expectation of something new or different elicits curiosity in how this could disrupt a quotidian flow.
London is extremely temporary in its nature. A sense of melancholy permeates the city at times and I can often find myself missing aspects of everyday life, even the things that have just begun. You become accustomed to the constant neurosis of change, the nauseous alterings, becoming familiar with unfamiliarity is inescapable. It's easy to slip into a mindset where I am lamenting the ending of what has only just begun.
A duality exists in change, often left with feelings of sorrow of what once was and oppositely dreaming of the new, experiencing a fluttering mindscape of what potential things could arise given a altering of the quotidian.
Spring, 2025
In this studio diary I explore my relationship to change as I comprehend the ongoing fluctuation of my life. Covering the good, the bad, and the ugly, I deep dive into the complexities of transformation, and how this has stood out to me in recent experiences of art.
I am adapting to a new environment to make my work in. Leaving an old studio space can be a lot to process for me, departing from the feelings and emotions brought to the creative process in that location: the cries, anguish, lethargy and empowerment, struggle and strength, or boredom and excitement of which the painting process brings out. Not to mention the beautiful connections I made there; I guess I am a sensitive person who finds any changes to my usual routine fills me with a sense of dread. While it would seem ridiculous, given this anxiety, that I would live in the most rapidly changing landscape in the country, I can equally imagine I would find life without this fluctuation quite dull.
Yet change, albeit it accelerated here, is an important aspect of life, reflected in nature. Humans have always been changing, and there’s an inherent need for growth that harks back to our ancient ancestors' need to develop for survival. Considering that change can sometimes mean the absence of what once was, it confronts us with the ultimate human fear of mortality. At an artist talk, Kat Lyon’s introduced a perspective of change that was less chilling given its absence of human centricity, commenting that the decay of things leaves space for new life to grow. She reminisced about an unfortunate culling of a tree outside her studio, yet reasoned it gave way for a housing development to be occupied by new life and home-building activities. Of course our human development needs to be less destructive to nature, and she shows a sensibility to environmental ethics in her paintings that decentres humanity within her exploration of the Anthropocene. The perspective that death or removal of the old is an invaluable stage of a natural cycle, making way for new possibilities, is helpful in dealing with the transience of a place you have to inhabit. I too will only be a temporary presence within this city, and perhaps its ever changing nature is just a challenge of my own inability to escape more miniscule changes in my own existence. Just as Lyon lamented her leafy studio companion, I too felt devastation when I realised a park I would frequently sit in aside my studio had been completely flattened. Inevitably making way for another shiny, characterless flat building, I was acutely aware prior that the manufactured park would be a temporary fixture. Perhaps the roses I enjoyed in the park, now perished, will be replaced by the bouquets of eventual residents of the flats. This awareness can be a powerful reminder of the importance of being present within the moment, and appreciating the things as change will never stop, and is quite a vital aspect of life as a whole.
Roses (now perished) in a park outside my studio.
We see change reflected in so many destructive ways, be that driven by monetary greed or in spite of a disconnection with the needs of people, that it is quite understandable that any fluctuation may elicit a negative reaction. Further, the feelings manifested in a particular place give it an emotional depth, being my studio a microcosm of this, as we associate a particular area with the relationships, traditions and unique characteristics that imbued it with a texture we became attached to. I was affected by Noah Davis' retrospective at the Barbican which reflected this connection to the everyday. I was not only in awe of his painterly ability, his '1975' series being most aesthetically accomplished and demonstrating the strength of his figurative impressions, but also moved by the provocative images he produced from his imagination. However, the whimsicality of Davis's artistic trip is balanced with his social commentary, as to not over romanticize the past. This exposes the vital affects of change. I was moved by the exhibition, perhaps prompted by feeling a kinship with the late painter's sensitivity to the texture of life in his proximity. I am in awe of an artist who so effortlessly manages to be politically engaged whilst depicting the minutiae of existence around him with a magical intensity. Albeit, never self-assigning this political angle to his paintings; he simply wanted to expose the marginalised communities he lived in with authenticity, which consequently conceals portant comments on the complexities of his shared experience. In this work you can clearly interpret the championing of his neighbourhoods, sensing within the cinematic representations a painter who was attuned to the daily rhythms that surrounded him. Once communicated in paint marks, the artist's instincts may heighten or exaggerate aspects, but this only further confirms his eye's curiosity. 'Pueblo Del Rio: Arabesque' sticks in my mind as a work which is exquisitely graceful. However, this piece is imbued with a sense of sorrow, reflecting the hopeful image of envisioned utopias of garden cities, hence in avoidance of representing the brutal and neglected ghettos they became. The painting makes a statement on the power of art and architectural projects to transform lives, portraying in a wider sense our apprehension of change for many who share the experience of unsuccessful or soulless housing developments which permeate society.
Noah Davis, 'Pueblo Del Rio: Arabesque'
Change can be positive if it has a focus on bettering the community or ecosystems. Beyond his sadly short, yet prolific career, Davis constructed the 'Underground Museum' to bring contemporary art to his neighbourhood, in the belief that anyone should have the access to educators, thinkers, and artists. I was so pleased to see this reflected in my own locality when a park's derelict public toilet was transformed into 'Outhouse', constructing a gallery space within the park and thus bringing artistic visions to an area enjoyed by the local community. I have been pleased to even exhibit myself here as a local resident. One of my favourite experiences was of the 'Shoe Museum' which was packed with so many great stories prompted by the variety of contributions of the garment made by individuals. It became a great celebration of the numerous ideas, experiences, and memories that can stem from the 'Shoe', insighting connection between us all due to the universal use of footwear. The success of this space in its short existence so far, becoming a site of collaboration, connection, or representing a diversity of experiences through the exhibitions hosted there, shows how the transformation of a community space can have a profoundly positive influence.
I see monotony is equally something to dread. In a recent series of gouache made for a 'Shoebox' publication, I contemplate being in a sort of purgatory, a sense of internal daydreaming about exterior possibilities, applied to apprehension of a dramatic happening. In this perspective, change is enlivening; sometimes a new experience is where life feels its most vivid. For example, a stage remains incredibly empty for an eternity until a dancer appears in what feels like a fleeting moment. States of extreme boredom can elicit the heights of the imagination, as the mind creates warpings of reality to break from the mundane. The expectation of something new or different elicits curiosity in how this could disrupt a quotidian flow.
London is extremely temporary in its nature. A sense of melancholy permeates the city at times and I can often find myself missing aspects of everyday life, even the things that have just begun. You become accustomed to the constant neurosis of change, the nauseous alterings, becoming familiar with unfamiliarity is inescapable. It's easy to slip into a mindset where I am lamenting the ending of what has only just begun.
A duality exists in change, often left with feelings of sorrow of what once was and oppositely dreaming of the new, experiencing a fluttering mindscape of what potential things could arise given a altering of the quotidian.