My birthday this year could not be more different from the one the year before. Last year I drew in my sketchbook, there was a Plum tree in front of me, I was in a strange land. That evening I dined with a friend at her home and ate my first artichoke, a rather strange flower that I’d never eaten before. I was halfway around the world, far away from all that was familiar, uncertain and wondering where my choice would take me.
This year I am home. I have received my things, am unpacking them and setting up my studio once more, bringing a goal I worked at for four years to a full circle or spiral as I prefer to say.But when I pause and reflect, I cannot help thinking what a year it has been, clashing contrasts of seasons, bizarre adventures, strange encounters, unbelievably wonderful friendships, horrifying uncertainties, bone-chilling winters, springtime forests and a steady, certain journey back home, back to being myself, back to my studio and back to doing all that I love most.