Resident Writer and Artist

Michaela Hall

Fragmented Identity

Our identity is complex, a culmination of our relationships, activity, environment, physical appearance and opinions. This makes it challenging to represent identity in a visual way. Collage is perhaps is one of the most accurate methods of representing identity that compliments the ideas behind identity itself; something that is not static and defined, but fragmented and evolving. With its fragmentation of different physical material, which enables the artist to essentially direct the eye towards different significances in one image, collage seems the perfect medium to explore identity .

New York based collage artist Johanna Goodman explores these ideas in a way which links the subject with environment. Her beautiful, intrinsically designed and pieced together imagery plays with varied, fantastical and unexpected ideas. A collection of different elongated models combined with their respective environment touch upon a range of topics from political opinion and climate change to lighter subjects like balloons and snow. The works are a coming together of different textures, colours and surfaces to create unforgettably unique imagery. Her works have been widely featured in the media and featured in international publications such as The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal and The Washington Post. Select pieces have also been created for musicians, museums and other sources of popular culture.

One of Goodman’s latest series, ‘SCIENCE Imaginary Beings’ (2020-21) has a focus on the COVID-19 Pandemic. Images of mismatched figures in masks which browse supermarkets, wander hospitals and walk the streets are largely consumed by a large visual representation of the virus. This evokes a conversation of identity in relation to current world events and thus, a changing and temporary fragment of the subject’s identity. I think we all know too well that the ongoing pandemic can be consuming. The masks, safety measures and the worry can become part of both our physical and mental identity; something aptly represented in these images.

While Johanna Goodman’s work may build up a representation of identity we can visually understand, German based artist Dennis Busch explores what happens with the removal and addition of elements to a subject. This works towards exploring the fragmented, temporary and editable nature of identity. Unlike Goodman’s work, Busch’s works do not give us a narrative which forces us to comprehend the work on our own and formulate our own answers. The viewer is left to wonder why simple additions have been added to a piece, or why some pieces have been erased or covered. This puts focus on the individual in the image, their identity and the story behind it. In ‘Skate & Destroy/ Skate & Create’ (2021) we are faced with a portrait of a young girl obstructed by an origami style addition over the face which only allows us to see a small portion of the visible photographic and sensical imagery, obfuscating much of its detail behind crumpled paper. In ’18 White Dots for Kim Novak’ (2021) the addition of white dots over the subject’s face removes detail from the area that we could have seen before in full, leaving us with the unknown.

Although different in some respects, both artists explore identity as something which is fragmented and changeable, materially and conceptually. The works provoke conversations which make us think about the nature of identity and what identity really is. How do we show this to others and is it even possible to fully represent an identity? Do we attempt to piece together elements that are related to our lives in some way like the work of Goodman, or is what we disguise or remove just as important as what we put on show as in Busch’s works? Despite all the questions that identity raises, what does seem to emerge from an analytical viewpoint is that identity is fragmented in the sense that it cannot be solely defined. It has multiple contributory factors that are ever changing and adapting. This reflects the society we live in, in which it is possible for us to change our identities in a way that is as simple as cutting, pasting or removing a piece of imagery in a collage.

The ‘In-Between’

by guest artist - Susan Merrick

I was asked to write an article on identity, which feels really apt as it is something I have long been thinking about, but am pretty new to writing about. I have been reading quite a bit by working-class writers recently, working-class women specifically. Focusing on both the Women and Working-Classness of the writers is important to me because both of these things make up part of who I am. It has been quite novel and completely refreshing to read stories and tales about lives that reflect, or have reflected, my own at some point, to hear language that I recognise from my youth, or see referenced culture or landmarks from where I grew up. It is these references throughout literature and Art that we recognise and identify with or not. It is these references which invite us to belong, or not. It is why for a very long time I did not know I too could be an artist, or writer, or anything belonging to that world. My voice was not reflected in what I read at school or the type of (very limited) Art that I knew about.

In my art practice, I spend a lot of time thinking about access and language, how the art world can feel so inaccessible through the language use as well as the places that it inhabits. Growing up, my Mum and Dad didn’t know anything about Art. We would go to the occasional stately home whilst on our annual camping holiday, but all we saw old portraits and pieces of furniture, the odd ornament. I don’t remember ever seeing anything that could be called an exhibition. I grew up near Hull, and during my teenage years spent time in and around the city, initially in the shopping centers, smoking with friends (we couldn’t usually afford to shop) and then later in other Northern towns going to Raves, or visiting friends I made through my new love of nightlife. But I had no idea there was a thriving art scene going on in Hull. I wonder if I would have loved it? Or would I have turned my face away, mocking its weirdness and calling the people ‘posh twats or wankers’, choosing instead to gather with my fellow ravers, sweating and dancing to a rhythm we could all understand and be a part of.

So to feel that in some way I have achieved that, moved away, and done something different, should be a source of pride. And yet, the same environments that allowed me to do this are the same exact ones that now tell me I am perhaps worse off for doing so. I find myself in the in-between. I live a middle-class life, comfortable financially, in a nice house and I’ve become a professional Artist and Interpreter living down south. Friends and family think I’ve ‘gone posh’, while new people that I meet notice my refusal to play the part of the ‘wanky artist’ or middle-class professional/mum/wife, hear my northern twang and appear to judge me for it.

So I guess I am utilising my in-betweenness in my art practice. Still aware of where I came from and what barriers are in place for those with working-class backgrounds, but now having some of this access, enough to start to understand the language anyway, and potentially push back at those barriers in order to let more of us in.

Bio

Susan Merrick is a multi-disciplinary artist working with a socially engaged practice. She is interested in conversations, language, and communication, in questioning whose voices are heard, and in the access and spaces that can challenge or facilitate this.

With a background in BSL/English Interpreting and Sociology she makes work, projects, and collaborations exploring these themes, utilising a context-based mix of social engagement, performance and live art, public installations, film making, and photography. Susan is an Associate Artist with Chapel Arts Studios and is a recipient of Project Grants from Arts Council England for 2017, 2018, 2019, and 2020-21.

Instagram: @susan_merrick

FB: @SusanBMerrick

www.susanmerrick.co.uk 

By Artist Naomi Smith

Bio,

'Naomi is an artist whose skills fall into many different categories, from socially engaged artworks to graphic prop making and creative writing. She graduated from the University of Exeter with a first-class degree in film studies in 2019, and since then has gone on to be trained in entertainment design by the leading environment and background artists for the likes of Disney and Dreamworks. Later, she became one of six artists in Scotland to be chosen to take part in Fire Station Creative's Graduate Incubator Programme. Throughout the program, she has had her work on show in exhibitions, worked as a curator, and will be putting on an exhibition this July where she will be creating a mock film set to explore within the gallery. Her dream is to one-day host workshops for minorities like herself, teaching skills in art department roles for film and television, such as prop making and set decoration, ultimately making the visual arts industry a more diverse and welcoming place.'

  GOOD FRIENDS

           I recently created a piece of art that highlights my relationship with my identity, in particular, being a lesbian. I won’t give you my coming out story, or a piece detailing the ways in which I realised I was gay (it was obvious- I devotedly wore skater boy Bart Simpsons jeans aged 7-10, my favourite film was always Bend it Like Beckham, and I cut my hair off as a teen to look like Frankie from the Saturdays (I actually just ended up looking like the lesbian equivalent of Cliff Richard)). Instead, I want to talk to you about the previously mentioned artwork, which aims to explore how writing throughout history has created and can create, perceptions of identity.

   Struck by the suppression and missing parts of LGBTQI+ history in writing, from lost Greek poems to the burnt notebooks, papers, and journals of playwrights, to the rewriting of gay literature to ensure it complied with heterosexual societal norms, I set out to make a tool with which queer history past, present, and future could be presented in an explicitly queer way. The title of the piece, “Good Friends'', refers to the frequent phrasing used by historians and commentators to explain away any sort of LGBTQI+ instances in writing, referring to blatant love letters, for example, as simply letters between “Good Friends”. 

     Through the research of queer history, I formed a queer alphabet, with each symbol holding significant meaning to the LGBTQI+ community. ‘N’, for example, is represented by three lines resembling the waves of steam that so delightfully rise from a home-cooked meal; this is symbolic of a love language I have found is strong within queer communities: Nourishment, feeding, caring for your queer family and friends through sharing. Certainly, it has always been a love language of my own: hours have been spent before big queer parties frying homemade spring rolls, sizzling them until they were perfectly crisp and crunchy on the outside, ready to be demolished by dozens of drunken gays who had grown hungry from all of them laughing and dancing in a space safe for them; I’ve poured my care like wine into a creamy risotto made for a gay best friend who had been struggling, the sweet butternut slow-roasted, served up on a plate that when handed over held the exact same sentiment as squeezing them in my arms and telling them that they are loved. More recently, it has been dreaming: dreaming of the feast my fiancée and I will eat with newfound friends in the home we recently moved to when it is finally okay to do so; the delightful softness of bao buns and dumplings, the salty-sweet of noodles cooked in soy, garlic, ginger, honey, and crispy chili oil, the pure joy of introducing new queer friends to you through food, everything entwined in identity. 

     These symbols and twenty-five others were then engraved onto elm, a tree which in itself was nearly wiped from existence due to Dutch elm disease- together the two are a testament to survival. To be written with this alphabet is to state: this writing is explicitly queer, beautifully queer, these are the devoted words of the LGBTQI+ community and they are not to be interpreted in any other way.

    With the symbols, I transcribed two queer letters with an aim to make clear the existence of queerness in writing from far in the past to today. There is oft a misconception that queerness appeared all of a sudden, a Western fad, a phase, where in fact queerness has existed all over the world for many hundreds of years. The fact that people believe this misconception proves the necessity of this collection. After all, all history is a tale. Here, I am telling it.

     First, I transcribed a letter between two nuns. I wanted to highlight the existence of LGBTQI+ love in places of worship in history, and the ability for queerness and religion to intersect beautifully. It also acts against the argument used so often against queer relationships- that the bible states love between a man and a woman only-, one that is entangled in my own identity, as it has been used against the sanctity of my own engagement, and was even flung at me by a teacher in secondary school. Instead of rejecting religion, however, I wanted to show the ways in which coexistence is not just possible, but has been going on for many hundreds of years. Acceptance of identity can be the most religious act of all.

     Second, I transcribed a love letter of my own, to my fiancée. To see your own history destroyed, purely because of who you love, is a terrible thing. This letter works as a piece of history filled with happiness. All of the artwork was hung in Fire Station Creative Gallery, in Dunfermline. Depicting the love of two joyful lesbians sharing their lives together in a public space was an act of defiance. In a precarious political landscape, queer joy must be documented, to show its possibility. Lack of visibility was the inspiration for the entire collection, and so, through publicly advertising the bearing of my heart and soul to the woman I adore, I stripped my identity, framed it, and made its existence not just fact, but beautiful fact, pretty in ink and cursive, lights making it glow.

     The collection as a whole is a love letter to all of my LGBTQI+ family, whose identities will always share a shimmering fragment of my own- to my incredible trans siblings, the intersex community, too oft erased from the discussion, the indigenous queer folk who have been fighting for their rights for centuries; all. To each and every person a part of this amazing group of individuals who have been screaming “I’m here” for decade upon decade, century upon century, “Good Friends” cries out “I’m listening”.

      My hope is that this collection not only represents the existence of queer identities in the present moment but that it can be used to further explore queer identities past, too. Voices that have been snuffed out by the smothering cloth of heteronormativity and acts of aggressive bigotry have the chance to be rewritten with symbols that in their very nature honour the queerness of the author. More than this, I hope that it will remain, as the years go by, as a way of communicating identities of the future. The symbols are an offering to the queer community, a way with which they can express themselves in an outrightly gay way. Queer identities perceived as such, and as such to stay.

Naomi can be contacted on her website

https://funfettifilm.cargo.site/

Art Imitating Life Imitating Art …Walking in my shoes … gender, identity and perception[1]

Jenna Fox, (15/01/21)

Instagram: jennafoxartist

In her book, Masquerade and Gender: Disguise and Female Identity in Eighteenth-Century Fictions by Women, (Craft-Fairchild, 1993) explores women presenting as men to publish their work such as J.K. Rowling as Robert Galbraith, Emily, Charlotte, and Anne Brontë as Ellis. [2] [3]  Alter egos have been used by artists to present alternative visions of themselves such as Duchamp’s Rrose Sélavy and Jesse Darling exploring gender cross-over from female to male using social media as an active platform.

While Victoria Sin describes her(their) work as heavily constructed fantasy narratives on the often unsettling experience of the physical within the social body presenting herself as a trans persona, it seems that the performance is their way of exploring and understanding it.

Others, such as Banksy have a hidden identity that acts as a masque and barrier to the viewers. Does this anonymity add to how the viewer considers him as he can then be the artist they see in their mind rather than who he really is. Yet we know he is a white man from Bristol. [4]  And then there is Grayson Perry who has Claire, who isn’t an alter ego as such as we know that she is him. Claire doesn’t make work, Grayson does and there is no attempt to persuade us that he is anything other than him in Claire’s clothing.

 What’s in a name (Ciuraru, 2006) in Nom de Plume, the use of pseudonyms is explored — either to dupe or a liberate. If writing is a way of manufacturing new experiences, why not create a fictitious self to create art, or better live it? Lippard proposes that it is no more arbitrary to bring together a group of women artists for a show than to assemble an exhibition of “Czech artists since 1945 [ …] we look at what is there individually”[5]. Yet what if we were looking at the individual’s work but under the guise of different personas and gender, would this change how the work was considered, perceived, and understood? Would there be a bias and why are there so few artists that use personas or alter egos? Or is it that we simply do not know?

[1] Gore, Martin, (Depeche Mode) (1993) Walking in my shoes In Songs of Faith and Devotion, New York: Mute

[2] Craft-Fairchild, Catherine (1993) Masquerade and Gender: Disguise and Female Identity in Eighteenth-Century Fictions by Women Penn: Penn State University Press

[3] The Reclaim Her Name campaign features 20 female writers who published using men’s names. https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8621117/Middlemarch-Mary-Ann-Evans-George-Eliots-masterpiece-bear-real-author.html [Accessed 14/08/20]

[4] Sin, Victoria, From her web site http://victoriasin.co.uk/ [Accessed 14/10/20]

[5] Lippard, Lucy R (1976) From The Center: Feminist Essays on Women’s Art, New York: Dutton & Co, New Pp 33

Burst with Colour!

by R. M. Gibson

Bio

R.M.Gibson is a Contemporary Novelist and artist born in 1995 in Darlington, County Durham, U.K. Their work centres around the social issues facing the 21st century and the relationships that make up who we are as a species. They completed a Master's Degree in Fine Art at Bournemouth University in 2019 and in May 2020 published their first Contemporary Fiction Novel, Not All Hairs and Graces.

Bursting with colour!

Identity, it’s a loaded word. A word that can make you look at everything you are in life and make you question it all. What is it that makes up my identity? What makes me different, what qualifies as different. Someone worth being.

For me it wasn’t easy, as it isn’t for so many. I had been questioning my identity for years with mixed levels of success, the thought of identity takes me right back to when the questions of me began. School, specifically secondary school, seeing the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her punky, messy, blond hair flowing as she walked her long dress parting on one side flowing, stunningly as the scene in engine room in titanic with Kate Winslet’s white dress moving in slow motion through the chaos not unlike the ones of the busy corridors.

Looking back I didn’t fancy her and thank god she was my teacher but it did start the questioning of who I was and why I wanted to be so like my English teacher, so intelligent but untamed, beautiful but so unapologetically herself. It was sort of like the power when the headmistress walked down the halls high heels commanding attention and discipline. I liked that; the power to turn heads, I craved it.

I really thought about it, something I could control in such a scary messy time something I could do to say to the world and more importantly to myself, this is me. It may sound vain and if it is what a crying shame, it was my hair.

Hair is something that influences a lot of people, having  certain style can say a lot about who we are or the people we want to be or even who we want others to see. It can be the first thing a person notices about you and in some cases one of the first judgements of who you are. I hated my hair growing up it was long, blonde and curly; a cute little girl. That wasn’t me.

The hair I can remember that I first became obsessed with as a young and confused teen was Alice Cullen spunky little pixie from Twilight and since bucking myself up to have the bravery to cut off my long blonde curls that haunted me everyday to a fun pixie. I saw my face in a new way a smile on my face a light I had never seen in my eyes. It wasn’t taken well. The comments, Lesbian! Dyke! What is wrong with you? You used to be pretty! – Unacceptable. But when you are a young teen questioning everything, rising above it and not letting the comments sink in deep is hard near impossible. As if being pretty was all I wanted. What stuck was that if a hair cut was enough to make people tell me who I am, what would my other life choices do?  

For a long time I didn’t dare be me I didn’t look into the mirror. I started seeing myself how I thought others saw me, the comments, the stabbing words hurt, like smashing a kiwi against a wall, not realizing the vibrant fruit was inside. It took a long time for me to become who I really was and be able to be proud of it.

Since school I had been writing alone and scared of others harsh words I retreated into my own world, of made up characters people who weren’t afraid to be who they were. I had no idea that being alone wasn’t going to be my always.

University was the time that shaped my identity the most school had damaged me but entering a place where everyone was different in race, age, gender, sexuality. So loud, cheery and most of the time friendly did I see that being me wasn’t a bad thing. I met a group of people who I never thought I would be friends with; colourful characters who were so desperate to get to know me for who I was. I made the choice to not be afraid and I went to the shop with one of my new buddies and I bought that carton of black dye. I still remember looking into the mirror again and seeing that sparkle back in my eye. I was nervous to show them all, I walked hesitantly into the living room where they all erupted with a chorus of over the top two syllable Damns! My smile was back. I felt powerful, I felt unique, I felt the real me peaking out from under the covers. It wasn’t until I was honest with my self and confident with that being me wasn’t a crime, that I began living my best life. I came out in my early twenties as Pansexual and that I was Non-Binary and my friends welcomed who I was with open arms and not for the last time. One day I was sat after spending a day acting like a complete child in playground with my new amazing friends and I looked at my manuscript and I looked at the email of the publisher I had been chewing my lip over submitting to and I thought be brave this is you, you are a writer. I hit send and now I am a novelist.

Like a tiger wears their stripes, I have my black pixie. I hold my head higher I stick out my chest and I strut with my heels clipping down every street I walk, trying to not smirk at the looks I know I’m getting, the confidence in my identity. I just think this is it, this is me. What is inside is important but sometimes it takes a change on the other side to make fruit burst it’s intense colour.  Our identities are who we are, the core of our being spreading out into the smallest things, like hair but it can open us up to being so much more.

contact instagram

@RileyM1864

Artist - Rhiannon Shaw

Bio

Am I Invisible? I speak and I’m heard but am I really listened to? I dress up, and I’m seen but do you just see right through me? Do you like me with makeup or without? Am I just the clothes I wear or the lack of them? Am I my straight hair, curly hair, or afro hair? Am I the words I speak or the ones I don’t?

Invisible.

Am I Invisible? I speak and I’m heard but am I really listened to. I dress up, and I’m seen but do you just see right through me? Do you like me with makeup or without? Am I just the clothes I wear or the lack of them? Am I my straight hair, curly hair, or afro hair? Am I the words I speak or the ones I don’t? Is how people see me a reflection of who I am as a person or how little they take time to see themselves. Do you know the work me, the family version, the personal version, the shy version, or the version who sits behind a phone? Do you even want to know every version, or would you rather pretend there weren’t parts to me? Do you only want feel (appreciate, view, resemble) the good, can you handle the bad? Do you even want to be seen? Do you Want to be Listened to? Do you want to be loved, Noticed, and Appreciated? Don’t you have a good and a bad side? Would you like to share without feeling like a burden? Do you want to be heard and really listened to remembered not just for your face the clothes you wear or how good you are at work but because you love? Because you radiate good energy out and you make people smile or because you made someone cry and they were able to release a weight they were carrying. Wouldn’t you like to be remembered for the feelings you made someone feel? The material moments in our lives that we feel are only great because we felt them, and it filled us up with emotions. Humans see what they want to see. To change ourselves effectively, we first had to change our perceptions. The knowledge we gain gives us the sight to realise we don’t know anything at all. All I know is we must love, and the small love we can give could have a ripple effect and go far beyond anything we could have ever imagined. We all have hidden versions of ourselves. Is yours waiting to be released to be shared? Look deeper into a person, not just the version they’re showing you. Love is so much deeper than we imagine love is the soul love is earth love is feelings love is touch love is everything you can imagine and everywhere in the world. Let’s not walk by the person without eye contact. Give someone a smile say hello. When you feel awkward in a room politely talk to your neighbour boost their confidence touch their inner versions of themselves. They may be the most confident person in the room, but inside they may be anxious. We all hide different versions in different ways. As humans, we all have different perspectives, but one thing we should all see the same is each of us is human, and we all deserve love, we all deserved to be listened to, to be seen, to be understood, and appreciated.

https://www.instagram.com/redesigns.graphic/

By Artists Irene Andreou

instagram.com/ireneandreou.art

In One Breath

My surrounding people have always characterized me as the uncanny one. In the beginning, I was putting effort to obscure myself. Throughout my journey, I learnt to appreciate diversity and approach all things with an open mind. Consequently, this has helped me mature as an individual and learn more about who I am, including to not afraid to stand out. Thus, my enhancement of conceptual skills led me to philosophical research that resulted in a study of the inner self.

This project experiment explores how my mind and imagination work through the various feelings I have throughout the day. Concentration and dedication are the two main challenges needed to cultivate to work on an art-piece for continuous hours and days. Before I start to engage myself with the canvas, I consciously identify my feelings; considering in which case I am feeling pain, sad, happy, motivated et al. Thenceforth, the process is led entirely by my instincts in respect of the colours, shapes, brushes, material or texture I am going to use.

In general, my current art expression is focused on feelings through colour and shape by using mixed media to arouse different aspects of my inner self, while at the same time I am revealing and exposing them through that process. Hence, colour is a strong aspect of my work as through bold colours and forms I am giving my paintings their distinctive nature. My energy flows directly towards each painting, eager to transmit my feelings to the viewer.

From the nature of my life journey and the experiences I have received to date, I am keen to encourage people through my art to not afraid to stand out of the crowd and reveal the true colours of their soul. I feel blessed that I have the chance through my art to inspire and encourage people and especially the new generation to embrace their differences and empower through them their capability to achieve glorious things.

I Am Not My Grief

by Amy F W Corcoran

Bio

Amy F W Corcoran is an artist, researcher, and writer whose creative practice oscillates around human rights, ecology, interspecies dynamics, and the more-than-human, and incorporates film, photography, sound, and installation. She employs these mediums to produce intimate spaces for reflection and embodied sensory experiences. This forms a more fundamental exploration into catalysing other modes of knowing through creative practices. Amy’s practice is partly informed by her Ph.D. (completed in 2019), which investigated art’s role in social change. In the contemporary climate, she understands art to hold power when it opens up much needed empathetic spaces, including those that move beyond the human.

https://instagram.com/turquoiselily?igshid=1dwit8y1hm494

I Am Not My Grief

My father's sudden death, in 2003 when I was eighteen and had been attending university only six months, was unsurprisingly a pivotal moment in my life, perhaps the pivotal moment. There was ‘the before', a safe and predictable existence, and 'the after', where certainty became an impossibility. I had lost my footing; I was cast out into the storm. Though legally an adult, I was in essence still a child, looking to my parents for security and guidance, and only really beginning to figure out who I was as an independent entity. The PTSD I suffered as a result of his death, combined with events that followed immediately after (which I shall not go into here), almost certainly hindered my ability to move forward with my own journey of mourning. This is what some term 'incomplete' or 'complicated' grief. Nearly seventeen years later, I continue to inadvertently wear my father's death, and my ongoing grief, as a core component of my identity. It defines, limits, and shapes me in ways of which I am not fully aware. I continue to grieve for 'the before', wanting to cling to it and to deny the reality thrust upon me in 'the after'. It is this agonising, this desperation for my old life, that has named itself as central to who I am. Recently, I have begun to visualise how this identity might manifest itself. I can understand it as a filmy layer that coats my body as a pale grey membrane. It is a barrier between myself and the world, one that alters the way I present myself, how I view the world, and how I am seen by others. I wear this identity and hide behind it as, in a perverse way, it is comforting because it is known. To shed it would leave me naked and forced to finally forge my own independent identity, which in many ways was cut short one night in 2003. However, through visualising the ongoing effects of this trauma, I am learning to scrape this film off my skin, ball it up tightly and push it deep within my chest. Not to throw it away, because that would deny any of the loss I feel, and any love for my father and for my life before he died, but to keep it inside as one part of myself, my overall identity, rather than its overriding characteristic. In doing so, space is created to look forward and to start the (somewhat scary) process of developing my own identity and presenting this to the world. As artists, we can productively employ creative mediums to re-explore and re-present aspects of our identity and thus come to know their impact upon us more deeply. We may then seek to shift how we relate to certain elements of our identity; visualising these changes spark profound changes in self-perception. I have found strength in dissociating my identity from the bad events in my past. I am not my grief, and we are not the bad things that have happened to us. Recommended further reading/listening: Griefcast - a podcast where comedians explore personal experiences of grief; The Center for Complicated Grief - a research and treatment center dedicated to complicated grief; Death by Julian Barnes; The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion.