Dead and dying flowers

I have a pathological need for certainty and a disposition to be uncertain. This makes enjoyment a little diffcult and fleeting. My work is on the walls at Dartford Library. I can look at aspects of it and feel satisfied. I guess that the difficulty of drawing is something with which I feed my uncertainty. Knowing when something has run its course comes more easily than knowing whether it has any value. The notion that matters of taste are subjective and therefore beyond dispute confronts head on the need for judgements to be rational and therefore arguable. Taste without judgement is valueless. I try to undermine my own taste in my work:good taste is potentially the artist's worst enemy. I want the work to be valued, but not necessarily liked.