NIKKI FOSTER

Tag: painting

  • Everything Colliding

    The first thing I ever sat down and properly painted was a horse. I think I must have been 13. It was quite funny because I didn’t particularly like horses. On a visit to the New Forest as a younger child with my family, I broke away from them and approached a group of horses…

  • Body Building

    I have been looking recently at the work of Alex Katz and Wilhelm Sasnal. What they appear to have in common is their use of film stills, photographic imagery, and an interest in the influence of illustration and advertising. Music is also present in both conversations. I draw these comparisons from listening to both of…

  • Red Shoes

    Last night I slept downstairs on the sofa; it is so cool and peaceful down there. I woke in the night to hear running footsteps above me. I thought maybe it was one of the kids, though when I checked, no one was there. It struck me this morning that, despite the initial withdrawal, I…

  • 100 days

    I am writing this after emerging from a house that has been in the throes of norovirus. We all dropped like flies, first the youngest two, then myself and my daughter. Beforehand, I had planned to do the 100 Day Project, which starts on 22 February. This year I wanted to approach it differently, without…

  • Ephemera

    Last week, I found a Ferrero Rocher wrapper tucked inside a library book. It felt like a small interruption, a trace of someone else’s moment. I love this residue sometimes found in library books: the folded corners of pages, the underlined passages of text. I began thinking about the idea of found ephemera and the…

  • Work in Translation

    Dear fellow artist, I’m writing to you from 100 days of rain in Dublin, honestly, it feels biblical! It was difficult writing this letter as I am always anxious about writing because I’m never sure if I will get my point across clearly or articulate my work properly. I’ve had this hang-up since Camberwell, where…

  • The Green Room

    Getting off the train at Bournemouth Station, the town strikes me more as a city now when I come home. There is a beehive-like cluster around the ticket gates before we are released into the dark. I nip over to ASDA to get treats: whiskey, beer, gin, chocolate. I have it in my head to…

  • A Minor Threat

    While sitting with a woman I know this week, I complimented her on her nails which were perfectly shaped and pillar box red. She thanked me and looked at my nails in turn, before averting her eyes and complimenting my runners instead. My hands are dry with paint in the cracks around the nails: I…

  • Gaps

    Recently a subplot of a novel I was reading caught my attention and filtered into the work.  The female protagonist has a child with a man whom she loves but doesn’t fully understand.  He tends to be melancholic, and it frustrates her.  When she learns of his affair, she moves away with the child, but as the child grows, she watches them closely.  The child later shows signs of…

  • Sitting

    My son finds sitting for me hard  and being in my painting room  frustrating  He says, ‘What is the point of all this?  All these pictures, if they’re just going to sit here?’  I try to reassure him   Its ok, I enjoy it  The point is to try to see better  They might go somewhere  He wants a fiver for sitting for me  For him now   things are…