"Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity."
This beautiful quote resonates with me more now than ever, as I reflect on how paradoxical it is to live in an age overflowing with distractions, whilst our ability to focus seems to diminish. As one of the last generations who remember a time before the last technological revolution robbed us of the ability to notice, attention has been a source of greatest joy; whether in creating, sharing the act of creation or its inspiration. It’s through the act of truly seeing which every artist and scientist cultivates, that we get to experience the nuances of human interactions, the edges of things we walk by, and the intangible spaces between all things that give them form.
We really do join the dots of meaning in retrospect.
From a very early age, my dreams were shaped by the intense colours, culture and geography of Italy, particularly Venice which was so close to our family home. We had an Italian painter friend then, Eliot, who I apparently watched sitting from a step, for hours. I haven’t stopped drawing and making since then.
Born in Taunton to an Italian father (a wonderful rock of a man, with a work ethic second to none) and French mother (unbelievably glamorous; much to her chagrin I kicked against being her reflection for most of my adult life), we moved to South London, where I still live and where my practice is based for a little while longer.
Growing up as an only child, I had the privilege of long stretches of boredom, which allowed my imagination to wander and my eye to notice. I taught myself to draw and would devour books, often finishing one a night. This gave me the childlike curiosity and sense of awe that I carry with me still—qualities my family once called "dreaminess" as an admonishment but which I now see as one of my greatest strengths. I also believe it is one of the things that makes us ‘ageless and timeless’.
But life needs sustenance as well as dreams, and after leaving home at an early age to work, I eventually retook the sciences not to study medicine as originally intended, but to study for a BSc in the physical sciences, culminating with a Ph. D from UCL in 1996 on the Quantum behaviour of silicon in the presence of Rare Earths. Doing physics at this level was my first real encounter with paradox, learning that we are more feeling creatures than thinking ones. During this time, I also secretly studied fine art at Goldsmiths College in the evenings, perhaps driven by a need to find common ground between the analytical and the intuitive.
Eventually, I realized the scientific world wasn’t where I belonged, and I transitioned fully into art, completing a BA part time in Fine Art in 2006. Along the way, I had to balance being a young mother with sustaining my creative practice. This inspired me to co-found one of the UK’s first consultancies focused on delivering creative STEAM education to children and teachers, a venture that allowed me to share my love of both art and science while providing for my family.
Since then, I’ve exhibited my work in galleries here and internationally, been with agencies, delivered talks for institutions like the V&A and Polestar and collaborated with some amazing thinkers. While the act of making art is deeply personal to me, I’ve always found joy in showing others how inherently creative we all are. Huge societal paradigm shifts in thinking start with the accumulation of tiny, personal acts of creativity. And everything single one of us makes creative decisions every day from the choice of our clothes to the eggs we decide to cook.
I am increasingly aware that attention isn’t just essential for creating art, it’s also vital for undoing the damage we’ve done to our planet. The more we attend to the world around us, the more care we can bring to it. As such, I and my horticulturist partner Wes, will soon be moving to the country to create a garden and home studio we hope to share, which embody all these values. And I know I have a book brewing in me.
‘I have always relied on the kindness of strangers.’ We really are just the sum of all the things we experience and the people we meet. This quote is to thank everyone who has ever helped, collaborated with, contributed or inspired myself or any creative just when they needed it most. Many of the most wonderful things just couldn’t happen without that leap of ‘what would happen if’.
And so I also love spaces that reboot you, mountains, speed, simplicity, trees, butterflies, mind minestrone, ‘can do’ people, belly laughs over dinner with long-time friends and family who truly know and love you just the way you are; the sun on my back and those closest to me with whom I get to share that wonderful space between all things.
Oh and I really love it, when one of my orchids (and I am new to tending green things) rewards my attention with a shiny new leaf.
Just magical.