I’ve always wanted to be an artist, even as a little kid. Sometimes that fluctuated between being an astronaut or a singer, but art was always up there. It was something I was good at yes, but I was generally good at most things at school, so I could have been anything really. I don’t remember anyone in my family encouraging me to do art as a profession, quite the opposite. My Dad said art was a waste of time. He was furious with me. He was a typical working class man.

In my career talks at school, I remember saying I wanted to be a graphic designer and the teacher snorting with laughter at that. He was a PE teacher and said art college was full of druggies. I had only a vague idea what a graphic designer did, but I thought fine artists were weird people who made the kinds of art I hated back then. Graphic designer sounded cool and was ok with my mates. I think I was frightened of being bullied if I said I wanted to do something that was strange.

When I left school I went to art college for 2 years, but struggled to find a job in that field and so ended up working in other jobs for a few years. I went back to college aged 27 and did 5 more years art training until I eventually realised my dream.

I never made much money as an artist. I had to teach to supplement my income. I’m not a good enough businessman. I don’t push my work. I don’t network or get my foot in the door. To be successful, you need that. You need a driving force, a resilience, a confidence and determination that I don’t have much of.

I just like to make art. And in the end you know, that’s ok. When I look back on my career, I can see where I made mistakes, I can see how I could have done better, been more successful, made more money, sold more work. None of that struggle matters anymore as I’ve retired. I think I made some ok art, nothing brilliant, but ok. What is important is that I enjoyed the ride. It was a good career.