I started drawing dead flies towards the end of my mother’s battle with Alzheimer’s. I had found her leaving a plate of sugared water out on the kitchen side, on enquiring why she stated that it was for the fly trapped indoors that she worried would die, it being winter. This action speaks a lot about her kind and considerate nature, and the image of this sticks with me still and helped me process her degeneration and loss. Later the image of the dead fly came to associated with my own mortality, my queerness and my failures. The slight shift towards a more colourful, expressive representation I feel is linked to where I am now and the direction I feel I am growing towards.
I don’t just draw dead flies (in fact I thought I was over the subject) but drawing them does help me when there are interior struggles I need to address.
Mostly working in pen and ink I have also experimented with painting, etching and screen printing when exploring the subject matter.