LET'S HOME NOW GO

IT STARTED AS SOMETHING I WANTED TO RUN FROM BUT NOW IT’S SOMETHING I LOOK FORWARD TO SITTING WITH.

Let’s Go Home Now is the nucleus of this project. When I was forming the idea of revisiting important memories/people/places in my childhood as a way to heal and honour my inner child, the first thing I thought of was my childhood bedroom. What other place better serves as a place of solitude and comfort in the beginning of life than your own bedroom. Until I moved out on my own, I had spent my entire life in that same bedroom. I shared it with my twin brother Shayne until we were 14. Days and nights spent together or apart it was a place to experience joy, anger, sadness and confusion. I spent my entire childhood and teen years sitting either staring at the ceiling or out the window reflecting on my own thoughts so it only made sense to me for that to be the focus of this painting. Inside the room you can see the corner of my bed, a place of literal and spiritual comfort. Beside it a Himalayan salt lamp casts a warm glow through the room. Outside, an early evening thunderstorm looms and a flash of lightning illuminates the sky. As a young child, I was so terrified of thunderstorms. I have a memory of running into my basement to hide while my babysitter comforted me.

I couldn’t really tell you why I didn’t like them, I just didn’t. However, once I got older thunderstorms became something I found myself looking forward to and missing in the dead of winter. I liked that it seems the whole world stands still. Every insect and bird, every leaf and blade of grass stops for the power of the storm. People gather under porches or open garages to listen and watch and wait for the first drop of rain to hit the hot pavement. In this particular storm I sat on my bed with my window open, letting the cool breeze dance with the curtain and watched the lightning. I was always told by my Nan that thunderstorms and lightning were a sign of awakening and transformation because of the transfer of energy from the sky to the ground. Times like these are when I become the most selfreflective, it just feels intuitive. The change in my relationship with thunderstorms felt like the perfect symbol for my journey with my queerness. It started as something I wanted to run from but now it’s something I look forward to sitting with.