Cardboard, paint, stickers, hessian
I started struggling with my mental health a few years ago and, with help, I realised needed to work through the trauma that I had been trying to bury for so long (the orange mask). I had created various “masks” that protected me and saved me from having to look too closely at difficult things. These masks worked well, especially the “I’m fine” and the “party on” mask (the purple mask) until they didn’t! When my life fell apart (the black mask) and I finally started getting help a counsellor suggested I try art therapy. My initial response was “NO WAY, I’m not artistic at all”, but I decided to give it a try anyway. I needed to do something, something different to the self-destructive path I was on, and I fell in love … with art. So now my masks are off, most of the time, and I’m working of finding out who I am and how to live my authentic life. I still struggle with my inner critic, A LOT, but the beauty of art is that there is no right or wrong, there is just art. It’s a way of communicating what words alone can’t say, whether it’s an entry into the Archibald Prize or a sculpture made from paddle pop sticks, it’s all self-expression.