Imagine trading your soft bed for a deflating mattress.
Imagine food cooked under ash, a fire that smokes more than it warms.
Imagine waking at dawn with stiff muscles, yet finding yourself strangely alive.
This sketch is not just about tents, cars, and campfires.
It is about the in-between—where inconvenience and beauty wrestle, and something deeper sneaks in.
Camping reminds me: comfort is overrated, but presence is priceless.
As far as things that I can’t seem to shake off are concerned, it’s this fact that a place like Edinburgh where I live is akin to a village where everyone (artist folk in particular) seems to know everyone, and the patterns or quirks that emerge from this said thought process. In most collectives I’m a part of and/or are associated with, there’s what seems like an endless sense of crossover and overlap with fellow artists etc for lack of better words, which is lovely as it is insane... you know? All in all though, even if it drives me mad it does so in a strangely positive way and I’ve learned to live with that. So yeah, make of that what you will. :-)
