Richard Bundy

DAD Artists at Home

 

Month one lockdown: I began my days by pushing aside the pointless feeling that would eventually overwhelm me in a few months. March, April, May and June found me behind my piano and in the studio creating classical piano pieces for Apple Music, which I love.

The garden had never looked so good as I found space to care for it more; to look closer into nature and observe the intricacies that lie before me, unseen, everyday. Then the external became internal and forgotten intricacies from my past wanted to be seen. Unavoidable in the stillness of isolation a quiet cry ensued from within and soon that was all I could hear.

2020 has been a dirty healer, journeys into an abused and shattered me; tired, forced to gather pieces, to reassemble.

And that’s where I am now. There’s a whole lot more to the tale but, suffice to say, although each breath is painful, I’ve learnt that it is called healing.

I continue to write and create, a cathartic practice. Often reluctantly undertaken as the directive fleets like a dream on waking.

Joy is born in each day.

I catch what I can.

 

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