A series interpreting the rise and fall of the tide. But really about anger.
A dense and burdensome anger that surrounds and beleaguers and destroys spontaneity and any pretence of bonhomie.
Anger at the loss of the creative mojo at precisely the time the workshop/exhibiting merry-go-round has eased up for the summer. Anger at social media and the resilient folk who can push their cares aside and be joyful and outgoing in the face of their own angst. Anger at such a graceless, self-indulgent state of mind. Anger at the decision to pursue a creative path that does little but frustrate and dishearten. Anger at an apparent inability to stop eating chocolate.
A psychoanalyst would doubtless put it all in a box tied up with string and label it ‘delayed reaction to the tragic death of my brother last September’. And they would probably be right. Checkmate. Nowhere to go.
Despite the apparent loss of any creative imperative, the images below have clearly sprung from somewhere. Nor are they relentlessly dark and cheerless. There is light and colour and an upward trajectory which suggests the tide may be turning both literally and metaphorically.