During my final year of art school in 1998 I had a yukka plant called JaJa. There was something about the exotic spikiness of her leaves that sparked my imagination and took me away from the grey oppressive skies of NE Scotland to far off Copacabana rooftops and saxophone solos in poolside bars. Jaja resided in my boudoir in an Aberdonian squat and somehow survived the endless mental parties, the fag ends and disembodied dreadlocks which often ended up in her pot.

When he died some years ago, it was decided that the piano should come to live with me, though even now, the emotional weight that’s attached to sitting on that very same stool, is almost too much to bear. When it does sporadically happen, I try to keep it light with a bit of Patsy Cline or equivalent, finally giving the piano a taste of the life it should have had.

“Change happens when the pain of staying the same outweighs the fear of change”, said a wise person once, not too sure who, but this is without a doubt what happened for me. Talking about needing to change but not doing it and not knowing how, made me boring to listen to but also frustrated, sad, angry and my confidence and self-esteem were on a steep downhill slope.

The last 8 or 9 months has been a very uncomfortable period for me as an artist as I’ve been moving through a big old creative block and a massive transition within my practice.