Stories

This is not a sob story. I consider myself to be one of the very fortunate ones. Both my parents were drug addicts and are dead as a result of that. I was placed in care young. It was bad, and a vulnerable kid popped out damaged. Then, I was long term fostered by great people, but in my family, you just 'got on with it'. And, by Lord! I had no idea how to do that. At 11, I found drink and drugs, and everything changed. The thing about mind altering substances for a person lik

Eneh took some pictures of her day and the things she likes. I hope you enjoy them and find them as wholesome as we did!      Zalbeth is funny. Zal Zal is my sister. The leaves fall off the tree when it’s very windy. All the leaves fall off the tree when it’s so cold. The park is good to play and get exercise from there. Somebody put a book on the floor. Jehovah made the park. Jehovah is our God. The squirrel is funny and when I make too much noise it runs away. I think the t

“Fairly late on in my life, I was afflicted with a neurological condition which slowly but surely eroded my ability to move about. Walking - previously an automatic function that I didn’t really think about - became perplexing, exhausting and painful. And so with disability and immobility I became increasingly confined to my flat and increasingly isolated. Art also came to me late in life and it has proved to be a means by which I can escape the tyranny of isolation. Disabili

This painting meant so much in the time of despair for me. I had been through court fighting for access to my son where I soon lost contact again. This destroyed my world leading suicidal thoughts. I had to do something to distract my mind and focus one step at a time in which I painted the word 'love' as a reminder of why it hurts and why it was worth the fight... I had to go on. Having gone to court for a second time I won my case against adversity. This word also gave me t

A fish named Jeremy Ohio State Prison: not a place I ever imagined being connected to. Yet, there's a fish swimming in a tank there with my name on it. For years, I was a master of disguise, hiding an addiction that whispered, 'You're not good enough.' Success felt like a borrowed suit, always waiting to be taken back. Rock bottom? I knew it well, but then I discovered there was a basement. Recovery has been a stumble forward, a messy, imperfect journey. It's about facing the

There were days, which were most days when rising to the morning and the daylight was a daunting experience. ​  The only certainty was that it was going to be  the same as rest of the enumerable days wishing that you hadn't woken up and that you were still oblivious to the new day. Eventually you realise the darkness of the night has given way to the light of day and you are part of it ,as much as you wish you were not. You play your mundane part which is usually the same scr

When Jeremy and David asked me to create an image that represents me as an artist for the Brush Past project, my first thought was to use a photograph I had taken back in the 1980s or 90s. The problem was that all the successful prints had long since been framed and given away as gifts—leaving only the rejects in my portfolio. So, I ended up rephotographing one of those rejected prints with my iPhone. Interestingly, the phone automatically brightened the photo, correcting wha

The Rooms As a child I was sent to my room, without a voice to reply, or knowing how to reply, to await my outcome. Sometimes the outcome would be full of joy, other times, my outcome would be full of pain. As a teenager, as I battled with myself to scrape out an identity for myself, coming from a dysfunctional room (home), I was sent to many different rooms (cells!)by those who thought they knew what was best for me. Within those rooms (prison cells) I found & embraced a lif