Posted: Tuesday 15 November 2011
For contemporary artist Dale Grimshaw, painting has been a lifesaver. Here, he writes about how painful early experiences inform his work.
Readers may find some sections of this blog triggering.
My recent exhibition at the Signal Gallery was based on some of the more tragic and negative elements of family life. I certainly have plenty of reference material there.
My mother had fled the family home. My father was a drinker and extremely violent - she was the object of his violence and was repeatedly injured by him.
She had lost her first child in a horrific accident in the home and never really recovered. Along with acute asthma, my mother suffered from what she described as ‘being bad with her nerves’. It was all hush, hush.
One of my early memories was seeing my mum unconscious on the floor, with blood smeared around the kitchen units.
We were living in a cramped caravan out on an isolated field near a dirt track. This was one of the numerous places I lived in throughout my childhood.
We moved from house to house, and sometimes us kids stayed with relatives or foster carers. The only predictable thing was my mother’s continued love for us.
Childhood had been a tumultuous journey. By the time I was 14 I realised I was gay. Attitudes were very different growing up in the late 70s and 80s, especially in a small Lancashire mill town.
It seemed that some people saw homosexuality and paedophilia as the same thing. I felt that I had a horrible, dirty monster growing inside me that wouldn’t go away.
Unable to talk to anyone about this growing monster inside me, I became increasingly depressed. I was told sternly by a social worker: “Children can’t get depressed.”
I started to sniff glue and drink heavily. In turn, this made me more depressed, confused and miserable. It was a vicious circle that carried on for about four years.
By the time I was 17 I had three stomach pumps for taking overdoses and drink. I didn’t want to die but I simply couldn’t see a way forward into adulthood.
I had always drawn and painted from a young age. I didn’t have much confidence, but I was bloody good at it.
I had gone into care at 14 and while living in an assessment centre I was encouraged to pursue my art. Later I attended the local art college.
My mum died when I was 19. Although it was a painful period, I threw myself into being creative. I decided I wanted to be a painter.
Initially, my painting let me delve deep into another world, a place to escape. In time I began to love the act of painting itself and I started to take it seriously.
In the last five years of painting, I’ve been producing emotionally raw imagery. I try and capture a psychological narrative in my work. I want to produce paintings that not only describe how we look physically but also capture mental and spiritual states.
I consider my art as a lifesaver. It was there all along, just waiting patiently for me to pick it up and run with it.
Dale Grimshaw
Read about Dale's exhibition at the Signal Gallery and find out about Mind's creative therapies fund.
It is good to read that Dale is doing well in life despite his terrible start in life including the dreadful things that happened to his mum.
Many people - especially those with mental disorders - often say how unfair and cruel life is, with which I agree. Under these circumstances I cannot understand how people are pro-active with their lives ie having relationships, marriage and children. In relationships people can often be cruel - such is the state of human nature. And therefore why have children if you know how negative and cruel life can be or is? On my bad days (and I am sure many of us are the same) there is 'Darkness Visible.'
I do not dislike children, in fact very much the opposite, if I had had any I would have been constantly worried about them.
James, I feel exactly the same. I barely survived into adulthood and only my faith, and my painting, have sustained me. I have chosen not to have children because I know the reality of life in hell, and I could not bare to be responsible for bringing children into this world, knowing what could happen to anyone, purely by fate.
June, thank you for your comments. If you forgive me for using a cliche, we seem to, very much, be singing from the same hymn sheet. I too have a faith, the problem was it took me a long time to recognise I had a mental disorder partly due to the fact I had/have a faith and felt guilty for feeling the way I did.I didn't have a bad childhood and I (along with most other children) was brought up to believe that life would be very nice and civilised and most people were very nice to me. The problem was at the age of 11 (when you start secondry school) things changed dramatically and a lot of people actually seem hostile. It leaves you with a feeling of being mislead and makes you realise that, due to flawed human nature (including my own), life will never be what it should have.
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