Head: Mother, a self portrait
2008 Bronze

The life of an Expat can be very exciting, but at the same time it can be very lonely as each time you move, having to say goodbye to friends becomes more and more difficult. The excitement of moving to a new place soon loses its veneer of glamour as the reality sets in; placing your children into yet another new school and trying to reassure their understandable fears of not finding a friend. Learning how to drive on the wrong side of the road, how to find the school, the doctor, the hospital and the supermarket all take their toll, especially when you don’t speak the language of the country you have just settled in.

And then, just as you think you have got the hang of it, off you go again to some new place, and the cycle begins again.

The cardboard box became a symbol of moving for me, unpacking into a new house and starting again, it underlined that state of ‘temporary’ of not ‘belonging’ and for my children I became the one thing in their lives which was constant.

The move back to England with my children happened nine years ago, we finally stayed put. I kept one cardboard removal box for storage; this box became a work of art with its transformation firstly into a cardboard house, which was subsequently burnt out in the kiln at Butley - it has been resurrected in its present form, a bronze house.

At last, a sense of permanence, a sense of belonging and roots for my children - me, a Mother, a home – a house.