When We Trust

There's a point where you stop analysing, stop questioning, and just... lean in.
It's not a loud moment. It's quiet. A heartbeat held between what was and what could be.

Trust isn't soft. It's skin meeting skin, breath held steady, the risk of being known.
It asks you to stay open even when every instinct says protect.
To let yourself be seen even if it means you might fall.

Sometimes that's all it is - the willingness to reach back and believe that what meets you there won't break you.

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Have you ever had such an emotional response to a painting that you wanted to reach out and touch the shapes, the colours, the textures? Exploring the feel of the paint with your fingertips as it builds patterns and ideas? Yes, me too!

I'm that fun person who wants to stop and feel the textures of objects as I walk through shops, feel the fabric of the curtains or run my hand over walls as I walk by... annoying, right?!

It's probably no surprise that when I started painting using a brush, I felt like there was a disconnect between me and the canvas. Solution... throw away the brush and use my fingertips instead!! And guess what? It worked!

There is nothing more exciting for me than bringing that connection and emotion to life in my work, and being able to share it with you.

I face into my work with honesty and a “bare all for the world to see” vulnerability, reflecting on my growth and lived experience with mental health issues. My fingertips are the conduits of my emotional connection to each piece, building a story of a moment in time, a reflection or expression of something that I have felt, seen or heard in the world around me.

I am fingertipping my journey!