I am saddened to learn of the death of Louise Bourgeois. On a return visit to Bristol, my partner and I go back to the Arnolfini Gallery, and whilst my partner browses in the bookshop, I look once more upon the series of drawings shown in a small room upstairs. It is as though I were seeing them anew, they impress me again with their uninhibitedness and apparent simplicity.
Yet it is not easy to make drawings like these. Thinking that the spiral might be a perfect, if predictable, symbol to articulate something of the condition of depression, I attempt a drawing of a spiral, only to tear it across in dismay. I cannot draw like Louise Bourgeois.
The important lesson is that of understanding that one can only draw like oneself, and finding a way to do so.