I struggle to write an artist statement. It’s not the writing, or lack of imagination. I love to write. It’s trying to explain the process, the way that I work, that is difficult. The work comes unbidden from some deep place that I don’t have words for. Perhaps that place was created in my early life, when communication was visual, drawing, crayoning, painting were my language. Words came later.
When I am painting I don’t think in words, I don’t plan what will emerge, nor do I try and stamp any conscious authority on the work. The image will be what it is meant to be, the forms flow from a visual bank; clouds, waves, trees are the words of this language and assemble in sentences on the canvas to express something more than their parts.
I have worked in the wild weather on the edge of the world, where venerable mountains resist the relentless calling of the ocean. I have stood in one place and looked down on gannets flying, and looked up at sheep overhead. I have felt the power of wind and rain and clung on for a time before seeking shelter, learning respect for the plants and birds and beasts that live, grow and adapt to the harshness.
The power and beauty of the landscapes I have loved are seared so deep they have become a part of me. It has been a great privilege to live and work in this Ancient Land, it has mended and sustained me and brought me great joy. The memories of place continue to shine light in any darkness.
It has also been a great privilege to have people who have supported, understood and appreciated this work, and I thank them for all their belief in it. You too are people who love this Ancient Land and I dedicate this work to you.
– Linda Graham