Space ... beyond the final frontier

I grew up in a big mad family. No space to swing my arms, or pick your nose in private, always competing to be heard. Space was limited, precious. We learned to share, and share little and wear hand me downs, which was fine except I was 6 and 4 years younger than my sisters so spent my childhood out of fashion! Confusion set in when the new clothes I did get, my, 2 years younger than me,

sister got the same just different colours. Were we twins? Was my Mother keeping something from us?

More and more I retreated into my imagination to find space. Off into the wilds, well, the old railway line that ran behind our house, that became a magical space of adventures galore. The seeds of my imagination blossomed. In my mind anything was possible. I was a Superhero. I once tried to prove this by tucking a tea towel in my tee shirt neckline and diving off a coal bunker. I came round with my sister peering into my bloody and swollen face. My imagination continued to drag me off into some hair brained scrapes, where, to avoid ‘a good telling off’ I snook into hiding back in the safety of my space on the old railway bank.

My outside space expanded to new frontiers as I got wheels, scooter, go cart, bike and then car. Horizons conquered, new landscapes discovered and inspired, but interior space was still limited until now. Finally I have a dedicated art space. A room to accommodate my creativity and for my imagination to flirt with my plethora of art materials (that’s another tale ... I just can’t resist a pen).