Sarah Lightman


Lockdown Self Portrait, Week 1

It’s my quiet space, and I am so happy to be drawing in it. I can’t get to my art studio in central London, so instead, I am stretched out between the mirrored chest of drawers, and the closed bedroom door. There are no other artists in this studio, my companion is a bag of odd socks, and sometimes, as I straighten my back, I dislodge all the paperwork shuffled on top of the cabinet. Here, I can be emotionally, even physically, naked, just me, looking into a lightly smudged long mirror. It’s quiet — I can listen to my opera — where no one can find me until, well, until they find me…  I don’t have to make sure my son is doing his schoolwork or fold clothes, or feed people, or wash hands endlessly. I don’t look at the news, and I don’t feel intimidated by the preening perfection of Instagram. My feelings do not come second to anyone’s needs. Instead, in this studio, I have all the time in the world to go inside myself. I swim in my emotions and my thoughts. With my pencil and re-worked paper, I try to draw my face. It’s funny that when I started yoga a few years ago, I discovered I had always had a place in me that was so perfectly calm. I didn’t always need to do the yoga to access it, even though it does feel wonderful to go through my body into this space. But for now, I will let me pencil lead me there. A place of acceptance inside me, where I can cry and regret, I can smile and love, with no judgements or fear. Looking out, and looking back, at me.