This is vital since the creative process is essential to the fulfillment of all positive change, including personal growth and transformation, healing, insight and problem resolution.

I was introduced to art therapy during my cancer treatment, and as soon as I picked up my first brush, it was as if someone had opened a door for me.  I felt instantly at home.  Since that first session in 2002 I have studied with several artists and teachers in London and South Africa.  Although I have used numerous art therapy techniques to develop my art practice, mostly I have used my intuition to guide me. 

Discovering a new technique

In this hub I want to focus on one technique which has strengthened my creativity. This is the 'no brush technique', which Suzette Clough introduced me to. Finding a good teacher is essential for developing and strengthening your creativity.  I have been fortunate because my teachers have always appeared when I have been ready for the next step.  As soon as I begin looking, they appear. 

During the winter of 2003 I worked on this technique on the paint-stained floor of my studio which was part of an old boathouse on the river Thames.  My 'fragmented' body was wrapped in a fleece, and my bald head was exposed. Inspite of the inner turmoil I felt, I was comforted by the isolation of floating on the water, and the serenity I found in being free to just dive into my painting practice, unworried about the end result.

Choosing Colour Intuitively

Mixing my personal paint colours is an integral part of my preparation and practice.  It starts with collecting the containers, old jam jars, which I wash out ready to blend a new colour in. Selecting colour is an intuitive process for me, and I now understand the value of allowing my senses to choose colour rather than my head.  There's a reason I am drawn to blood stained red.  

On the floor of my studio I had a pile of postcard size pieces of Indian Khadi paper, which I tore the edges off. I submerged each fragment of paper in a bowl of water, to make it absorb the paint more readily.  Slowly and rythmically I started to combine and merge the paints onto the paper.  

The paintings came thick and fast in a great rush, a bit like the river outside.  I was painting as fast as I could, and reminded of the many times I had tap danced on the stage as a child, as fast as my feet could carry out the steps.  The paintings weren’t laboured, I didn’t have to think about them, they came through me in gushes of violent reds, ash blacks, and hybrid pink and purples.  I was using magnificient pearlescent acrylic inks which added a luminescent quality to the images.  

Making Sense of the Whole Picture

Slowly the fragments of paper began to form patterns with new edges.  Words came later when I sat back and reflected on each painting and discovered the insights and messages within each image.

My surgeries had left me feeling fragmented, and painting and ripping the paper allowed me to explore the broken pieces and their symbology, until I was able to re-form and later transform the pieces into a whole picture.

Slowly, I began to make sense of what had happened to me through the paint.

Light began seeping into my paintings through the use of metallic powders.  I smudged and blew these fine jewel-like crystals across the wet paint, embedding them into the rough and angry images, softening these edges.

The story and journey continues in the paint.

A collection of these paintings will be published in the summer titled, 'When I Came To My Senses'.