Just me?

So, I’ve finally achieved it – my dream of creating all-white paintings.

When I was something like 14, I saw the play Art in London. To be honest, I don’t remember very much about it – except that there was a white painting with white stripes on it, and someone had paid a lot of money for this white-on-white painting. And that was ridiculous.

So, of course, everytime I got gripped with the desire to paint my all-white paintings, I remembered this play, Art – and didn’t.

There’s something about white. The way it washes everything clean. The way it covers everything up. The way it creates space. The potential it holds for anything to happen on it. Awakening a very basic desire in me to leave a mark. My mark. To play.

So – in retrospect – a white painting covered in white stripes seems rather wonderful.

Except that I am not interested in stripes.

I am interested in humans. In being human. In trying to connect with other humans and how amazing it is that we can connect at all – and how impossible it can still feel to overcome the isolation that comes with having my own body that is not yours.

In being physically separate and my dual longing for total freedom and intimate connection.

Is that just me? Is that everyone?

And maybe that’s why I write, and maybe that’s why I make art – we are always being asked why we do things, but what if it’s just essential to being human – to create, reach out and attempt to connect. What if art is a sacred space in which we can attempt to express ourselves and connect with each other without judgement – to ask and say what we can’t normally ask and say?

Do you feel what I feel?

I’m finding my way here, and it turns out my way is not a place of answers at all. Rather, it’s a place of questions, emotional authenticity and connection.

I found my own way to my own white paintings. And isn’t that the interesting thing – what do you feel, and what do you see when you’re not being told what to feel and see – and is it anything like what I feel and see?

And can we somehow inhabit this space together, regardless?

Stay with me? (Acrylic, oil pastel and milliput on canvas, 24x30cm)


Sarah Nabarro View All →

New mum, old soul… Finding beauty, wisdom, spirituality, and opportunities for learning in the everyday (hopefully)…

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