Here’s wishing for a world without limits. In which we can walk the streets without having to carry with us a variety of self-defence mechanisms and tools (pepper spray, umbrellas, scarves, pen knives.. the list is endless), without having to be on high alert and think of what-ifs, without having constant anxiety. A world in which we don’t feel guilty for the choices we make, as women are so often wired to feel. A world in which we speak up more and are listened to. A world in which we aren’t stared at, objectified, restricted, ignored, subdued, marginalized, controlled, suppressed, groped, abused, manipulated and silenced.
Elitism in art has always amused me. A lot of artists are annoyed nowadays that platforms like Insta juxtapose what’s considered “real” art against amateur (and sometimes, more popular) art. The truth is that a lot of artists like to consider themselves as “true” artists. Specific types of art are held in contempt. There’s so much hierarchy that’s crept in. Many years ago a highly acclaimed artist told me that my work was drab and I realized it was because he only considered his style of work as true art. But isn’t it cool to celebrate and appreciate the diversity of creative output? People drawing on their phones, on tablets, on paper, detailed work, spontaneous work, trained artists, accidental artists, ‘just having fun’ artists. It’s an incredible community.
At the end of the day all creators are just people like you and me trying to do something with their lives. I’ve often been asked for advice to artists/creators and I have this to say — do what is honest and what feels right to you. It doesn’t matter whether people praise it or diss it, as long as it makes you feel fulfilled. What someone calls gallery-worthy might be forgettable for others.
You only have one life to live and if you feel like creating a piece of art that makes you feel good (or makes someone else feel good), go ahead and do it. Whether it’s drawing stick people or intricate patterns, watercolour landscapes or digital art, don’t let someone else’s opinion affect what you have to contribute to the world.
The Tap Desktop Calendar 2021 is ready to be shipped!
–To buy within India, click here.
–To buy outside India please choose an option from the drop down below. Due to COVID-19 restrictions, I encourage you to buy in sets of 3 or 5. Prices include shipping 🙂
3 calendars: £60, 5 calendars: £80 (worldwide shipping)
Single calendars: £24 within UK, £30 outside UK.
-For orders within India please buy here.
Here’s celebrating the little things that give us hope, every day, from beautiful houseplants to heart-warming conversations with family and friends. We need all the hope in the world for better and brighter times ahead! As always, thank you for supporting my work.
I love collecting souvenirs from walks and travels: leaves, shells, feathers, stones. With autumn setting in, I thought this was a perfect way to celebrate the season. I made this piece with leaves I’ve collected from walks around Cambridge. The Oxalis triangularis (pretty flower-like leaf at the bottom) is a houseplant I dearly love and have managed to keep alive for almost a year now. The first leaf is from the gorgeous tulip trees that line the avenues in the Backs in Cambridge. The second is from my Pilea (Chinese money plant) — note how curly the edges are though they appear perfectly round on the plant. The third leaf is from the Beechwoods Nature Reserve near Great Shelford. I love looking up at beech canopies and how the angle of sunlight can change the colours! The cherry tree leaf (‘winds I’ve weathered’) is from the trees where I live, Cherry Hinton. I love how pretty cherry trees look in autumn, such beautiful gold-red shades! Both maple leaves are from trees in Cherry Hinton Hall Park. The oak has become a nice familiar tree, I picked up this classic beauty on a road near my place. The bracken fern leaf I found this autumn on a hike in Eskdale, Lake District – the plant that gives the hills their gold-brown colour. The second last leaf is from the mostly-ignored pile of leaves that collect below my Ficus houseplant, one I’ve had for over three years. The gingko (last leaf) is from trees somewhere in the town centre: I like how they’re one of the oldest species of tree (with all others in the family being extinct) but to me they always look fresh, new and welcoming.