Georgia Lilly Beaumont
I’ve always been interested in the can’t-put-your-finger-on-able feeling you get sometimes. It may be brought to you by remembering something from your childhood, or listening to a song, or being somewhere completely new, or smelling something that is exactly like something else you know so well. It can be good or bad, or neither.
I seek to capture this in my painting, and so I combine the processes of blind drawing and using thin layers of paint, over and over again. I suppose the layers act as a literal version of each memory clouding up the last, and so you’re left with this kind of fuzzy feeling, reflected in the final quality of each piece. Each layer helps cancel out some of what was behind it, reducing noise, but it is still only a thin veil over what came before, much like how our own memories super impose themselves onto one another.
I like playing with the idea that my drawings, made from only tuning into the sound in that moment, while my eyes are closed represent something completely spontaneous. These drawings, alongside the cloudiness of the paint represent the instinctual part of us, which together within the wider context of our memory, shapes us. I like to think of this as my own way of getting closest to this sometimes grey area, where emotion and memory cross.