I NEVER WAS PROMISED A ROSE GARDEN

I read – and reread – the semi-autobiographical novel I Never Promised You a Rose Garden by Hannah Green long before I should have. It impacted me deeply although I never knew why.

A late life neurodiversity diagnosis filled me with relief, overwhelming (at times) grief & an empowerment of sorts.

I am searching for a deeper understanding of my aging identity and my works in my Rose Garden series is the result of a spectrum hyperfocus (or 3). Looking back, I understand I was questioning my mental health & place in this world as an autistic & ADHD woman.

Turns out the book was correct & I never was promised a rose garden. Just took me awhile to work it all out & be okay with it. Mostly.

I BUY MY OWN FLOWERS

Continually searching to understand & know my place in this world, I realised that I needed to loosen my mark making & embrace spontaneous imperfection so I could tap into my vision & neurodivergent strengths. I alternated between controlled, intricate mark-making & moments of chaotic, free form strokes.

I switched up my tools, my mediums, set a timer, used my non-dominant hand, turned up the psytrance music, & tried blind/semi-blind drawings.

Painting with a garden stick, walnut ink & botanicals I suddenly became aware that I could squint my good eye, tilt my head & paint objects how I ACTUALLY see them. This led to, you guessed it, another awesome hyperfocus. Funnily enough I don’t know I’m in one until one day I wake up, sit at my easel & realise there’s nothing left to sketch or paint or draw. Or say.

I buy my own flowers as I don’t have a garden or someone to give them to me… and these ink paintings are me learning to be okay with that. Which circles back to the fact I never was promised a rose garden.

 Again, it takes awhile to work it all out & be okay with it. Mostly.

Art is how I interpret the world around me, each stroke bringing clarity and comfort. It is often my form of effective communication.

Welcome to my language, thank you for joining me.

I consider myself a mixed media artist, which is just a way of saying that I can’t make up my mind on any given day. And, as I don’t like admitting defeat (or boredom), I continually explore new ideas and mediums, keeping my works expressive and ever evolving, while still delving deeply into minute detail. I sometimes feel like a storyteller, using mixed media creations to narrate the unique way I exist in this world.

Being legally blind in one eye since infancy has certainly impacted me in many ways - good & bad – and helps shape all my paintings, quite literally.

A late life neurodiversity diagnosis filled me with relief, grief and empowerment in understanding my identity, further helping to make just a little more sense of my life.

Both are helping to create a life rich with meaning, where each piece of art, and individual moments are part of a larger narrative. I have chosen to embrace this funny old thing we call life and am carving out a space where I can thrive on my terms, creating a life that is both meaningful and uniquely my own.

Thank you for allowing me to share my single vision with you.