Sitting here in my studio in the Festival I feel on show. My work feels decorative, to be glanced at silently, without comment or conversation. Am I decorative too ? I want to be out walking, connecting with the streets, the people. Instead I feel awkward, silently dismayed as people come in and say ‘What a lovely view’, as they look out of my window and then leave. A fish out of water. Oh, to disappear in my duffel coat and wellies – even in August and march over the landscape with my sketchbook in my pocket. I really am trying, but I fear this is not for me. To be fair, I have had some good comments and chat about walking, drawing and conversation but I am struggling to find a way of making this process feel comfortable and enjoyable. There is also the difficulty of strangers in my house, in my studio. My studio is ‘my space’, a space in which my thoughts and actions are born. To have others walk through, makes me feel vulnerable in a curious way. I have attempted to organise and beautify the space, perhaps another attempt at being decorative.. I have removed all the paint and ink from the walls, given it a coat of new, fresh, white paint, the process of my work eradicated. Why ? Why did I do that ? I think I need to claim back my space. I am going to get my painting dungarees on and make some work. Go on an imaginary walk down to the shoreline with my black, sticky ink. Picture to follow….I hope.