I went to the Tracey Emin exhibition yesterday at Tate.
Her work has been an inspiration for me for most of my life. Her immediacy, her boldness, her vulnerability, her directness.
I’ve always loved those diary-like entries on big canvases. I grew up in the 80s reading Judy Blume (Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret?) – maybe there’s something in that. I love the messiness, the handwriting, the Polaroids, the body parts.
She’s one of a handful of exceptional female artists who always spoken to my heart.
So many of us barely scratch the surface of who we really are; dangerous, naked.
So many of us were brought up to be good, to be nice, to create harmony, to keep our mouths shut and be pretty. It can be hard training to dismiss.
I see the effects of that conditioning every day.
In art.
In music.
In creativity.
In life.
People making themselves smaller because they’re afraid of being judged. And that fear is real.
People apologising for taking up space.
People hiding.
People needing permission (that’s ok – we kind of all do).
I am interested in your voice, not just singing voice.
Your creative voice.
Your artistic voice.
That part of you that you know exists somewhere in there but is afraid to say what you really think.
The part that wants more.
More edge.
More honesty.
More truth.
More danger.
More freedom.
Artists don’t need help becoming somebody else.
They need support becoming more themselves.
My job is not to make artists behave.
My job is to help them stop f*cking hiding.
To trust their instincts.
To take risks.
To make bolder choices.
To create work that feels alive.
To unfold into the artist they already are.
Image: From Tracey Emin Exhibition ‘A Second Life’ currently running at Tate Modern.
