sketchbooks, 2020-11
I spent a great deal of time around my husband Ian’s illness – I didn’t think of it, of course, as the time of his dying – and after his death in August 2010, drawing in piles of sketchbooks. I travelled to visit my sister in Israel and brother in South Africa, and drew there too. Drawing that way, turning from one page to the next, pinned the days down to a more recognisable sense of time passing. I also listened to the whole of Proust in that year, and so – absurdly, and pretentious as it might sound – since I listened as I walked, listened as I drew, these drawings bring back that time, and that reading experience.
