The Visitor

When I was 13 I entered a mental hospital for the first time to visit my father. He was suffering from his first major bout of mania, and about to start a life long dance with bipolar disorder and the cocktail of drugs that run alongside.

That is over 40 years ago, but I still remember the eerie feeling of walking through the corridors. A feeling of trepidation and unease mixed with something of the voyeur's gaze. The over ridding memory is of the unblinking stares that I received as I entered the day room.

I am seeking to capture something of that feeling in my next painting, a mashup of imagery - a day ward, 1970s wallpaper, and a happy family playing cards...

This is a detail from that painting