April brings us Easter; a time when we celebrate Spring, new life and lengthening days. I always think of my father around this time, as his birthday fell in this month. He was an artist who worked in commercial advertising, often from home as well as his London studio. As a small child I ‘worked’ alongside him in his room at the top of the house, at my own drawing board and desk, set up next to his. I would make my own creations, often using offcuts from his collages or 3D models made from card. He taught me so much about design and drawing, colour and form, but most of all he taught me how to look, how to really see. Never much good at school, my father was my teacher, across all subjects. I know now that our time spent together was the most generous and precious gift he could ever have given me. I have inherited many of his tools, including an ancient Stanley knife, intricately graded steel rulers and (still very sharp) paper shears; as I use them I notice that my hands are just like his hands, a mysterious living link to him.
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