The fear of white walls.

From a very early age, whenever I went to a new place, it would be my prerogative to find a souvenir to remind me of that specific place; Even if the souvenir was a tacky fridge magnet or an ‘I love London T-shirt’. Mum and Dad used to call them ‘the tacky shops’, me and my sister took every opportunity we had to go in and have a good look around, leaving our parents outside trying to figure out where to go next.

Since the beginning of my fashion course, I have come to the realisation that collecting such items could potentially help me. With the exception of fridge magnets and T-shirts, collecting endless amounts of postcards, and taking photos of everything that catches my eye, could be collectively put together to create something visually pleasing. My Dad has taught me that I should carry my camera with me everywhere, if you just stop where you are and look around I can guarantee that you will see something beautiful. Such as the graffiti that lined the walls in Barcelona, the mosaic patterns on a random street lamp in New York, Covent Garden’s tube stop, and even Nottingham’s market square.

My obsession with lining my walls with endless amounts of magazine pages started when I came to university, as much as I hate to rip a page out of Vogue, those pages deserve to be looked at. Every time I enter my room, I stop and look around. After each briefing on a new project, my walls give me inspiration to create new ideas. Added to my walls are endless amounts of obscure postcards I gathered from New York, my own work, flyers; the list could go on really. I guess I have a slight fear of ‘white walls’ I need to be surrounded by pictures and things that remind me of being at home. Thank the lord my parents let me go into those ‘tacky shops’ if it wasn’t for them, I would literally be staring at a blank canvas.