A few readers have emailed me lately with a simple question. "Why do you paint?" And while they are asking about my reasons, I think they are really wondering about their own.

Of course, we could ask the same question of any creative person. Why does Joni Mitchell write songs? Why does Toni Morrison write books? Why does Steven Spielberg make films? And why does Tracey Emin paint?

All those forms of art are self-expression and also, I think, a way of communicating. We're saying "this is how I see/feel/think" and also we're saying "I want to share it with someone."

Many people seem not to feel this urge. They seem content to live their lives without creative expression. They seem happy to keep their perspectives to themselves. I find this odd. 

I have always needed to make things - over the years I've drawn and painted and written stories and non-fiction. I've sewed curtains and cushion covers. I've upcycled old furniture, and I've designed gardens. I seem to only be happy when I am actively creating something.

Sometimes it's a way of communicating ideas and feelings (as with my paintings or the stories I've written) and sometimes it's just a way of creating my surroundings so that they feel as much like "me" as possible.

And perhaps that's at the crux of all this... the search for "me." Who am I? What does it look like when I make a home? What does it look like when i design a garden? And how does it look when I pour my inner self onto a canvas?

This last question has been the most dominant one in latter years. I've let my garden get a little out of control, and I haven't made a cushion cover for a long time. But painting has been a constant. 

It's my way of getting my insides out, so that I don't have to carry it all around. I made a series of paintings about grief after the death of someone I once loved very much. 

And more recently, I made my Taylor Swift inspired 'Mad Woman' series which you can see HERE.

These paintings were inspired by a question: How would it feel to reclaim the colour pink?

That question sparked others: How would it feel to see pink not as the colour of Barbie and bubblegum and cute nursery walls, but as the colour of female power?

How would it feel for us to stand up and say “I am equally worthy of respect and attention and I deserve to take up space.”

How would it feel for us to express our emotions clearly and without fear? How would it feel to dismiss those who gaslight, and wear our anger proudly?

So in these paintings, I used pink to paint with my whole body and to express everything that I wanted to say about righteous female rage. I let it rip and it felt amazing. I think there is more of me in these works than in anything I have made to date and I'm thrilled to put them out into the world. 

For me that self-expression is as vital as breathing. I simply don't know how to live life without it.