During the lockdowns, I turned to painting to try to express that strange feeling of living through something surreal. I found myself thinking more about my life, illness, death, and about those I loved. Every day on the news, we heard about deaths, hospital admissions. My brother and sister in law had to go into hospital and were seriously ill. Then more of my family became ill. We heard of domestic violence soaring and terrible hardships, jobs lost, poverty. We seemed to live in some strange old film, with all the restrictions, empty supermarket shelves, deserted streets. But some people felt freer than usual, taking up exercise, finding it peaceful, having more time to think, to be with family, to look at nature. Others felt trapped and stressed and felt their mental health crumbling as every day repeated in a loop. Little things meant so much – neighbours offering to help, playing music in the street. I shall never forget that. My painting shows masks – individuals – flying free in the cold winter woods or trapped in the cold winter woods? I feel changed – maybe I’m nearly out of the woods, no longer locked in.