About

I have a memory of my 95 year old father in the rehab unit wearing a hospital gown. He grasps a walker and pushes forward, fast. He runs at it. Slow down John, the physio cries, Slow down John. My father chuckles. He likes the idea that he is doing this well, being the best. On the other side of the room a young man struggles with his walker. He can barely place one foot in front of the other. The effort creases his face. He has been in a motorbike accident. He must relearn everything. I witness him. I admire him. I watch him shyly not wanting to intrude. We pass a look between us.

For me, being an artist is about the uncertainty of outcome. It’s learning to balance upon what I know already and what I know nothing about. And it’s about falling.