Serena had always wanted to paint people but when she couldn’t find anyone who would sit for her she started to find things that would: pieces she found around her in her studio, on her travels, in her grandmother’s attic, in the woods, or brought in by the tide on the shore. Her foraging resulted in a cuckoo’s nest of characters. They had their stories to tell. And so she began to paint their portraits.
It is the everyday which makes Serena pick up a paintbrush. She can see a world of colour and form and narrative in the clutter of the commonplace. Serena feels a need to give what might otherwise be discarded, like a sardine head or a dead pigeon found on the pavement, an immortality in paint. It is a memento to their existence.