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Drawing is how I see the world, how I make sense of it, how I articulate my profound discomfort in it, and how I make my peace with this discomfort and thus retain a mite of sovereignty in it.

Drawing and seeing are inextricably linked. Drawing engages me with my environment. It is difficult and requires constant rigour, and is not always successful. There is nothing to  hide behind – the maker is laid bare. It keeps me vulnerable and open. It is exhilarating to have such direct contact to mark making. It is as primal and pleasurable for me as playing in sand or soil.

I remain fascinated by the marvels of the human form. I am moved by the grace and simultaneous awkwardness of human beings.  I am reminded every time in the life drawing room of what the human body is capable of- the elegance of the gesture, as well as the graceful vulnerability displayed in how we inhabit our bodies. I am particularly in awe of life drawing models and what they give. I am humbled every time. 

Drawing engages me in a physical, intellectual and spiritual way that is unmatched with other forms of expression. It is not static, it is potent. It is an end in itself and a means to an end. 

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