I will never forget the summer I learnt stained glass painting.
We had to make our own coolers, mixing resins and pigments. The slightest error would spoil the effect. Glass is the most unforgiving surface – it does not conceal anything.
My sub-conscious mind became that glass, in years to come. It would reveal everything my conscious mind had reconstructed for perfection. The rawness needed outlets. It was there in my dreams, in my silent screams, in unspoken words, in unshed tears….
And now it finds an outlet in my written words – the corrosive ink of suppressed emotions tearing through the paper of expressed logic.