HOW I GOT HERE

Fifteen years ago, perhaps sixteen, I had the privilege of meeting Maggi Hambling after taking photographs of her beautiful Scallop sculpture. I was filmmaking at the time and had just finished my first proper professional acting job at the Theatre Royal in Norwich: around sixty performances in as many days.

The money was good, but the hardest part for me was mixing with other people. I had come out of my fifth rehab and had a one-year AA chip in my hand. What I did not understand then was how much of my life I had spent using alcohol and drugs as a mask. Looking back, I see it as self-medication, an attempt to survive in a world I never felt I fitted into.

I fell in love and had a child whom I adored. He was part of my life until about a year and a half ago. Missing him has been deeply painful. Having lost my own father at an early age, that separation touched something very old in me.

But when I met Maggi, much was going well. I was making films, taking portraits and photographing weddings, doing the best I could to work and survive. It was Maggi who saw the artist in me.

At first, I knew her as a sculptor. I did not know she painted. When I saw her paintings, I thought, “Wow. This is amazing.” I had painted before, between 1984 and 1986, while I was in prison for importation. What I now think of as self-medication was not seen that way then.

Years later, in the garage where I had a shop in Saxmundham, I found a canvas and some blue paint underneath the old till. Ahead of a production meeting, partly to take the mickey out of Maggi, I painted a blue tree and a blue cloud and put it on the wall.

When she came in, she asked who had painted it. I told her it was me, expecting her to rip it to pieces. Instead, she told me to paint another one.

So I did: a blue cow, a blue tree and some blue clouds. When she asked why I only used blue, I told her it was the only colour I had.

She went to Crisp’s in Saxmundham and bought me a canvas and seven oil paints. Her encouragement was simple: I was an artist, and I should paint to make myself feel better. She offered to mentor my work and was very clear about her preference for oils rather than acrylics.

So I painted. Each year, my work grew stronger and the exhibitions grew bigger. Maggi opened my exhibitions, and her support meant a great deal to me. I enjoyed showing the work, but I still found myself self-medicating to get through the experience. That was not good for me.

Later, with medication, came the Targets. The focus. I could finally see the line.

I thought I was strong enough to face the rejection sensitivity I struggled with. I started acting again, writing plays again and putting my pictures out into the world. But I was also running around like a headless chicken, chasing money and trying to find £300 a month just for the downstairs gallery.

Halfway through August, it all became too much. It felt as though sixty-five years hit me at once.

For the last two months, I have stepped back and spent time quietly building my world inside my head. I have a wonderful partner beside me, and I am deeply grateful for her help and support. She is a Dove.

I could go on and on about my life. But more than anything, I hope my pictures tell my story. I am writing more and "I can't stop the sea boy" is written. I will be out .........soon.