Art as Transformation:

Art has long served as a silent witness and companion through troubled times. For those of us who have endured personal adversity, art is more than expression—it is restoration. In my own life, art guided me through chaos, loss, and emotional struggles allowing me to find myself again and reclaim my identity.

Growing up in the shadow of both of my parents’ alcohol addictions came with years of emotional instability and anticipatory grief - Anticipatory grief is the emotional response we experience when we know that a loss is imminent—whether due to terminal illness, aging, or other circumstances where death or significant change is expected. It encompasses many of the same feelings as post-loss grief: sadness, anger, anxiety, guilt, and even moments of relief. However, it unfolds while the person is still alive.

Whilst at school I was labelled “stupid” by educators and my parents.  Misunderstood by the very people I needed to see me most clearly. In these silences and misjudgements, art became my voice. I thrived at art, needlework and photography at school and also passed in English but left school without maths, sciences or a language.

My foundation in art—first through school, then during a life-changing course in Banbury—was not merely educational. It was reparative. Each sketch, stitch, or photograph was a form of articulation, a means to process all that had happened. As I moved through adolescence and young adulthood, surrounded by the confusing dualities of care and harm, art remained my way to make sense of experience. Whether through the silversmithing that offered tangible form to intangible feelings or the gentle repetition of knitting for my children, creative practice anchored me.

Later, as I navigated the complexities of motherhood, bereavement, and my own physical transformation, the relationship between trauma and art deepened. The deaths of both parents, stark and in close succession, unearthed years of buried emotion. Discovering my mother’s OCA course materials amidst the clearance of her belongings felt symbolic. I enrolled in a textiles course with the Open College of the Arts and it became a massive turning point for me. With each module, I wove healing into form, culminating in a first-class honours degree—the first awarded in my programme. It was not just an academic milestone, but a personal triumph over long-held narratives of inadequacy.

In this journey, art has not erased the past, but it has given me agency within it. It has allowed me to revisit trauma not as a victim but as a maker—someone who can reshape, reinterpret, and transform pain into something of value and resonance. My creative practice today—whether exhibited publicly or shared through teaching—embodies this transformation. It stands as evidence that through artistic engagement, the fractured self can be redrawn into something whole, resilient, and powerful.