2019

I’ve been thinking about the first house I lived in near the cliffs in Sydney's east. We lived there until I was 6, mum said it was too hot so we moved a few streets away. Built in the 70s, with many windows and skylights, my crayons would melt, the markers would dry out and the play-doh would crumble from the harsh direct sunlight drenching each room.

I've been thinking about how sometimes people still remark "my kid could have made that" when critiquing contemporary art. Well sure, art is there to conjure emotions, to make you think and question and feel. A 6 year old would have a fresher memory of that traumatic moment when they were snatched from the warm gooey womb. They have all these questions about life and are still unaware there are no answers to some. They are great artists.

I've been thinking about my childhood recently, I think I miss that mass of waxy melted colour. Years of architecture school's neutral tones, black and white aesthetic and clean lines made me forget that glob of blue and green and red on the breakfast table. Here is my comeback, my city of colour.

About the Artist

Natalie Rosin's website