Tamsyn Salt


My work is about my tightly-knit obsessions unconsciously finding their way out by deviating from another's structure. I seem to go round in circles in a multilayered way, very boring to me, as I suppose compulsions can be. However, now and again something happens.

Sychronicity, magic, symbols, parallels arising from unplanning, hinting that something is happening. I cannot, or do not want to explain too much. I believe in mysteries. I can tell you that sometimes, as in filming and photography, a collaborative effort follows an underlying course that is hinted at and miraculously reveals itself without any conscious thought by anyone. Very strange.

I don't know if I have explained that properly. Words are, or sentences rather, always seem to leave so many possibilities open for different routes of explanation. Very much like painting. All my paintings publicly now seen are being killed by you. I shall explain. They are all unfinished and to show them is to end their links to me. Perhaps time will build bridges.

They are unfinished because, as with wigs and masks, they are protecting me from disclosure, exposure. They are to me now, like a colouring-in book. Accidents have barely begun to happen, if any. They need to be..... Taken into the dark, a candle, a cave, made into wind. To return like Maths. I cannot tell you the route, it is barely lucid to me.

Enough.