When I first started making my art, my aim was simple .... make something - anything! - that I liked. I made a lot of things I didn't much like. I had a lot of failed attempts. I just wanted something that felt "good" although I couldn't actually have defined what that meant.

But as I gained experience, and actually began to make things I liked, I wanted more. I wanted honesty. I wanted truth.

Truth is a pretty big thing to aim for in art - after all, who knows what is true or not? But I wanted something that at least felt truthful. And of course, that means beauty is sometimes an inherent contradiction. Because the truth isn't always beautiful. If I want to tell the truth, sometimes beauty will need to fall-by the wayside. I'll need to also allow in ugly, dark, twisted, and depressing.

I started to explore this in my abstract work but found myself floundering a little. That's when I felt the urge to turn to realism again, something I haven't done for a long time. I started with portraits of Tracey Emin and as I painted, I journaled about the 'why.'

Why was I fascinated by this woman? What did that fascination have to teach me? I journaled about this question but I also began to make self-portraits. What could I learn about myself from all this? What did I want to become?

As I wrote, it became clear that truthfulness and honesty were high on the list. Tracey doesn't shy away from the truth - in fact she rushes towards it. She reveals herself honestly. Her art is authentic. Her art is brave. I wanted more of that in my own work. When I felt the push to bring in darkness to my abstract work, it was a sign that I knew this already.

So, I set myself a new short-term aim - to start making self-portraits that expressed some of that darkness. I decided I would make portraits that went way beyond the surface. Anyone can see what I look like just by watching my videos ... I wanted to keep some of that likeness, but also to show what lies underneath.

Like any person, I am many things. I am kind and passionate and enthusiastic and loyal. I often inspire people. I paint well. I am a good teacher. I have a lot of wisdom. I am a good listener. I make an amazing chocolate cake. There is lots to love!

But there are other things too - like everyone else, I carry heartbreak and bear scars. I have lost people who were dear to me. Past traumas have left a residue of ongoing anxiety and I suffer from chronic pain. And especially over this last 18 months, I have been faced with enormous challenges.

In other words, I am a human being. I contain the good and the bad and the inbetween. Or as Walt Whitman put it so eloquently:

"I am large, I contain multitudes."

And so I began to paint. And as the paintings began to express something of the truth, I shared a few on social media. And that's where things got interesting.

Many people understood what I was doing, but some were confounded. I received comments like:

• "Why don't you smile in these?"

• "You are so much prettier than this."

• "I am worried about you - are you OK" (I suppose this one at least means I succeeded in my aim!)

• "No, I'm sorry this is not you." (wouldn't I know?!)

• "Your face isn't as long as this."

• "You don't look as old as this"

Later, when I posted a painting that was a little less confronting, many people wrote "ah yes now THAT is you."

Of course, the truth is that all of the paintings are equally me because I made them. They each reflect an aspect of my being. None is more "me" than any other.

But I understand. What those people mean is: "this feels more comfortable for me."

But should art make us feel comfortable? Should I use my art to portray myself as something I am not - or rather to show only selective parts of myself, like a series of happy clappy social media posts?

I don't believe it should. I am coming to think that art's main purpose is to show us that we are not alone. We look at art or listen to music or read poetry to find ourselves in the notes or words or brush strokes. We want artists to express their experience of life in a way that illuminates ours. I think my love for Tracey Emin's work comes from the fact that I see myself in her art. I see my grief and my loneliness and my heartache and I know I am not alone. She must know how I feel because she has painted that picture or made that statue.

I would love to make portraits that do the same .... they won't all be of me. But I'd like to make portraits that say 'you are not alone... others feel as you do. I feel as you do.'

I think this kind of honesty is needed more than ever in our era of social media and surface appearances. Not everyone is always having a blast. Not everyone is living a perfect life.

And most importantly of all, I'd like my work to say that we can feel pain and shame and guilt and fear, while also loving life and being grateful for every damn moment. I am working towards that aim - I'm not sure yet how to make paintings that do that. But I know that honesty is absolutely necessary if I am to get there.

So yes, this is me ...

That painting shows how I feel when the pain kicks in and every joint hurts. It shows how I feel when I am hurt or stressed or anxious. It shows how I feel sometimes inside as the losses mount. It shows the truth of some of my experience.

But the fact that I created art out of that feeling, also shows that I am alive. Art-making is an act of love and generosity, And I am unutterably grateful to be here experiencing all those feelings.

I cannot even begin to tell you the joy I felt while painting that piece. I worked for 6 hours without a break and thought of nothing but paint. I felt completely in flow and thrilled by the act of creation.

We are large. We contain multitudes.