Works

Gold ground, talismanic figures, the eye that looks back. Nana calls the source of the work the heavenly floor. These are the paintings where that idea is most literal: a field of gold, and something living inside it.

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Portraits that arrive rather than get planned. A splatter resolves into a mouth. A mask turns out to have an expression. Art brut in the strict sense: no training, no correction, no second guess.

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One gesture, held. A Japanese calligraphy brush, a pressed body print, two wet surfaces rotated against each other. What survives in these works is the decision to stop.

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The most disciplined work in the body. Bars and cells repeated in heavy acrylic, built up over weeks. Where the rest of the practice is loud, this is where the sustained looking shows.

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Paintings with a punchline. Four decades of journalism left her with a headline writer's instinct, and these are the works where the words and the image arrive at the same moment.

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Assemblage and sculpture. Raffia, textile, found material and paint built into heads and figures. The dimensional edge of the practice.

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