I feel change It’s a mouth-taste, odd. Also pit of my stomach when I notice I’ve casually ‘turned over a stone’ and uncovered memories from 13 years ago. Remembering I ran away then, wondering at the grand plan that overrode those better instincts and pinned me like a specimen inside a story that wasn’t mine. For a decade. Print of the Music Room at Haddon Hall, Derbyshire. I understand I’m being triggered by recent events that have little to do with me. It’s fascinating – I feel my pulse change as old traumas rise to the surface, still stinking like dead fish. In three years I’ve healed enough to function well at a steady pace, to build new systems that will I hope benefit many, articulate plans well enough to go hunt them with proposals, maintain full-time work and a part-time Masters study. But these rememberings are embedded deeper than surface function. I’m shocked, ten years on, by the detail of my recall. This is happening now because I’m painting again, in preparation for the December 3 Studio Tour. There is no way around it – the visual art work always takes me down and in. The paintings are a by-product. Nov 2 Bridge to CM Masters Standing Rock #NoDAPL,which on facebook is getting twenty to thirty times the coverage of the US election, world-wide. It’s not just the pit of my stomach that knows this is a game-changer. Idle No More, indeed. I seek to understand my own ancestors, and the ways and means I can forgive them – industrialists, colonials all – for the damage they wrought here. I am part of that history – that long awful story of dominance, abuse and neglect. My belly is telling me change is here. It’s time for a new story.