Without this turning into an essay, I began this canvas a couple of years ago when I was very ill. It allowed me to go into my art room for just a few minutes at a time, throw some paint around, and feel like I was creating.
Some days it was paint. Some days it was a scalpel. Some days a permanent marker, or silicone filler. Textured filler, or tissue paper. It has layers of hurt and layers of beauty. Paint added in so many different ways, words and colours that meant something to me over the months and years it took to make.
I think it's finished now.
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