Q & A – What’s your strongest memory of your childhood?

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What’s your strongest memory of your childhood?

I remember the excitement of the anticipation of being seven years old, pulling back the paving stones of the path in our garden and discovering a new world, watching all the ants and worms, beetles and snails, living, eating, working, playing, hunting, hiding and sexing. A mirror to the thoughts and feelings in my head and heart that moved, slid, marched, wriggled, crawled and jumped in stops and starts, in a highly ordered pattern of wild confusion and mad abandon. 

And I remember my first love Julia Simpson, when we were just ten years old, the softness of her rose petal lips, her laughing blue eyes, her chestnut hair soft and silky as a pony’s tail, her breath the fragrance of honeydew melon, the tenacious way she gripped my testicles when she reached for them under the desk, and the feeling of her electric fingers slowly rifling through my hair.

I can still feel the breeze swaying the golden ears of corn on a summer ripened day, when we went to the cornfields for a ‘snog’ and she pushed me away giggling, my kisses too eager, my soul too urgent to claim her as the Goddess, so that it scared her. No longer a heart virgin, the first time my heart broke, the corn pressed down where we had lain, and it never sprang back, but I longed for love, and my heart so broken there was nothing to protect any longer, so I persevered in loving, a corpse embracing all of life, and this is why I paint in a wounded way with no hope of satisfaction, wrecked, ravaged, driven, swerving the sharp corners, ignoring the crossroads, fleeing the parking lots, taking the byroads, no one driving


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