For months I looked at the same dirty wall and stained tub, unable to change it between the demands of being a mother, an artist, and a carer. It became background noise — something I resented, stopped really seeing, then couldn't stop seeing at all. One tired day, I sat in the bathtub itself, not to clean it, just to sit — and it wasn't as unbearable as I'd expected. I told myself: take a proper look at your life, the small details you keep missing and I photographed it. The image splits evenly between wall and tub, with the taps and drain between them — where I sat and thought about my life. There's no figure, yet the wall is a self-portrait. During etching, a mistake became a happy accident, adding a tonal richness I couldn't have planned — and instead of correcting it, I let it stay. That choice is the whole work: like my shift from jewellery-making into fine art, and like sitting in that tub, this is about learning to trust what's imperfect, unplanned, still becoming.
