Heartfelt thanks for the outpouring of support you’ve sent my way since last Tuesday’s post; hearing your own stories of not only surviving, but thriving, has been inspiring. I won’t be able to respond to all of your messages - there are far too many and they are still coming. But be assured every one of them means the world.
More than once over the past several months, I’ve wanted to say something about my diagnosis. In the end, it became even harder to say nothing. Responding to texts, emails and PMs on a fairly regular basis explaining why I couldn’t meet individuals for coffee and the like, much as I’d sometimes have loved to, was draining and stressful. I felt caught in a loop, reliving the diagnosis each time, using precious energy I needed for my work and for healing. Don’t get me wrong - it’s lovely that people want to catch up and in these days of restrictions and lockdowns, there seems to be a greater sense of urgency involved. But even after I confided in people, some would still persist, and once again I would try to explain about my compromised immune system and the necessity to self-isolate. Despite some misgivings, finally I felt I had no choice but to put it all out there, in the hope that once and for all, people would understand. They have - in droves - and I can’t begin to say how much it means to me.
I’m feeling truly blessed to have the wonderful family and friends who’ve been through this with me and despite the increasingly debilitating side-affects of the chemotherapy, spending even brief time in the studio has been an essential part of the recovery process. So, I might add, has preparation for my current solo show. Some days there are so many details to attend to, my head is fairly spinning - and I’ve loved every minute of it.
Pictured above is Far Horizon, 2020, triptych, acrylic on three canvases, 18 x 12.5 cm (each panel), the first work I made after receiving the diagnosis and the last work I posted before taking extended leave from social media. At the time, I faced an uncertain future - I didn’t even know if the cancer had spread. For months afterwards, I couldn’t even look at the painting because it triggered dark memories. In the intervening period, however, Far Horizon has become a potent reminder of just how far I’ve come. This week Stephen McLaughlan Gallery reopened. The next time I see the work will be at the Artist Celebration tomorrow afternoon - a milestone of sorts. It feels like I really will have something to celebrate.