Ross Constable left his sleepy village in Staffordshire to study at Manchester Metropolitan University, studying Textile Design.
Embracing urban life, he never looked back. However, after almost 30 years in the city’s suburbs, he recently moved to Cheshire where his latest collection is being exhibited in Wilmslow at Hepplestone Fine Art.
This vibrant showcase includes a colourful, riotous celebration of everyday scenes from Wilmslow and the surrounding areas; but this life is not something Ross takes for granted.
The road to recovery
In December 2018 he suffered a double-dose of bad luck and contracted severe dengue as well as Japanese encephalitis whilst holidaying in Thailand. The chances of this happening are akin to winning thelottery multiple times. The odds of surviving were similarly small, and hesuffered lifelong brain injury as a result.
His paintings reflect his journey of recovery, from the darkest days of severe dengue fever, followed by elements of hope, to his current understanding and appreciation of how lucky he is to be alive. The common theme throughout all the paintings is the role nature has played in aiding his recovery. Ross explains his passion for nature and how it can help everyone’s mental and physical wellbeing:
The panic and despair I experienced when I realised my injury was permanent led to depression. I felt like a stranger to myself. My self-portraits try to capture the darkness that constricted me, the fatigue of the body tremors, the sharpness of the pain and the fragility of body and mind that I felt so keenly. My work is fragmented, reflecting my broken persona, and the jagged tics of sudden-onset Tourettes. Expressing these feelings in my paintings allowed me to shed the skin of this sickness that threatened to overwhelm me; it became my therapy.
On one of my darkest days, my brain was so fit to burst I had to escape the house. Everything was frantic and loud; the cars, the people, my thoughts - my constant tics.
Everyone rushing to be somewhere else – racing to get out. I needed to find somewhere quiet and headed for The Carrs Park.
It was so peaceful being surrounded by the birdsong, the branches swaying, the sea of green calmed me. I paused and a small bug crawling over a curved leaf caught my eye. As I focussed on that tiny natural process, clarity found me. I realised nature carries on around us at its own pace, regardless of the busyness of life. It offers us pause, lets us reflect and take solace that what has been before, will be again. That simple message of renewal was the turning point in my recovery. My paintings are an homage to the respite and rejuvenation nature continues to offer in my life.
My birds are a personal favourite; their whistles and twitches are so tic-like but such a beautiful part of their overall motion, they aren’t fragmented at all – it’s all woven in. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of trying to capture their essence.
The Spring daffodil collection was sparked by a series of unexpected but heartfelt letters from a good friend’s mother. One letter in particular really touched me. Written in Spring 2019, she offered hope of new beginnings.Her kind words inspired me to thank her with a painting of daffodils and it’s become a bit of a tradition now to capture the joy of Spring and its inherent optimism.
What I'm doing now
For me now, I can’t help but notice how the brain mirrors so many aspects of nature; from a tree’s silhouette to the way they communicate through their roots. Shapes and patterns found within the the brain are referenced in many of my paintings.
Like any therapy though, the aim is to heal the impact of trauma. I think I finally knew I was coming through the other side when I began the Wilmslow series. These represent the joy I now feel living here, united by the birds that were so instrumental in my connection with nature.
It’s funny but I have come full circle. I was so unlucky to catch two rare and dangerous diseases on holiday, but I feel lucky to have found the calm through nature that I needed to heal.
