Went to help my Dad out the other day, it can be quite challenging dealing with a mentally ill individual. Especially since I have the same issues but not as bad due to advances in medication and early treatment. I wish my Dad would try the new treatments but he never will as it would interfere with his obsessions and yes that involves money, not much mind you but for him money is out of bounds. I cleaned up and he was grateful but I left there feeling a little depressed. I make bleak art but I don’t live a bleak life, I explore that territory and it made me realise that exploring it is really a dead end. I know it but it is hard to let go, when you know something why repeat it? Why never let yourself forget? Why share it? Art has always been a therapy for me, I went to art school and enjoyed the craziness of it, but really it is an act. An act of betrayal? An act of artifice? Art school was hard for me because I thought it was crazy and fun but it is very serious at the same time you create a place to inhabit you invite your audience inside a place you create. You need to care for people as well as shock them or woo them with this art. I was always obsessed with what is hidden away, these thoughts, these things we suppress, my Dad who was never mentioned by his family, this shame, the things we want to forget. Really people don’t care for this stuff but it is the dead end I continue to navigate, I will see my Dad again soon to paint his flat and give him company and I will make another work that galleries don’t want or care for but that is the job of rubbish to pile up somewhere until it is in your face anyway. No junk mail, no dumping, no weirdos, please flush after use thank you. ; )

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