In my search for home, I’m interested in painting the places that exist in our minds and discussing the disparity in then and now. This has led to me reflecting on the places I have lived and called my home and those places that are distant callings.

Me and my besties called it The Grove ie Ladbroke Grove in North Kensington. This is where I raised my babies, made lifelong friends and where I had my first art studio at ACAVA on Latimer Road. I also taught at the local primary school that my kids attended – Oxford Gardens. We loved the area and its community. If you don’t know North Kensington it’s the poor part of the Royal borough of Kensington and Chelsea. It has a brilliantly diverse community, where the rich and poor sit by side and where over 80 languages are spoken. It’s a vibrant mix that attracts tourists and revellers to Europe largest street festival – Nottinghill Carnival on the August bank holiday every year. The carnival route is all around Ladbroke Grove and Westbourne Park but its’ called the Nottinghill Carnvial.

We lived down the road from the Grenfell Tower that sits among a group of blocks along the Westway motorway. My kids and I went to Maxilla Nursery Centre that was a community led project funded by the ILEA. Maxilla sat under the Westway. It offered free nursery places, a drop-in play centre and it was my first port of call and a lifeline for many parents through its Sure-start scheme. It had slides, sand pits, a vegetable plot, fruit trees – a wonderful rare oasis under the Westway. I remember going on a march with the kids, up to the Council offices with banners saying “Save our nursery”. The governments austerity cuts put an end to it and it finally closed in 2015 after forty year of service to the community.

My studio was just along from Maxilla, ACAVA and its windows looked out towards Grenfell at the back. When we had open studios the kids and locals from the estates would join us to celebration and be inspired. In 2007 just before we moved out of the borough, I ran a project “What becomes of the dreams of children?” I collected the wishes of children, parents and teachers and stitched them into a site-specific piece of art that grew across the school hall. Wishes were written in pencil and secretly posted into a ballot box first. The children believed their wishes would come true. In the end the art was a powerful moving piece that spoke of social diversity, deprivation and revealed the range of voices a diverse community.

Wishes like, I wish my mum and dad were alive, I wish the police would make it stop, I wish I could fly and I wish I had my own camper van (traveller community kids at the school).

Back then the exhibition was held at the school first and then in central London at The Optician art gallery so the children could see their wishes elevated. Ten years later, I would be visiting those voices in an unimaginable disaster.

On 14 June 2017 a fire broke out at the Grenfell tower and it was one of the worst fires London had seen in living memory with 72 people dead. 18 of them were children. 628 firefighters were in attendance. Four people were seen jumping to their deaths. Residents had documented on a community website their worries, pleading for help and warning there would be death if those concerned didn’t take action to amend the flammable cladding. It fell on deaf ears.

In the early hours I watched the fire and phoned my family and friends in the area. Everyone was in shock and the whole community pulled together in a way that crossed all barriers. I had to do something to help, but what? I taught art, it seemed the only way to give something positive back.

I kept in touch with Oxford Gardens so I knew I hoped I could offer my teaching to the headteacher and teach across KS1 and 2. I also volunteered my time to run an afterschool club once a week. The idea was to give children (some who had witnessed the fire) a long-term visual voice through sketchbook skills, and so a visual vocabulary. The project went on for a year and with funding I managed to put on an exhibition of all the art work and the sketch books at the local Tabernacle Community Arts Centre. I called it “Making art your voice”. At the end of the project parents visiting the show were asking if I could do something in their part of the borough – they needed it too. The head teacher could see the benefit of extra art classes and opened up the timetable to more art the following year. I was so excited for the kids to have this in place. Art is a natural leveller, unlike Maths or English. Young children were all new to the skills normally shared with teenagers and adults.

I made paintings about the project and wanted to illustrate the resilience of the children in the aftermath. When I arrived at the school in September 2017, debris from the tower was falling daily and the caretaker was clearing from the playground in the mornings. Friends had pages from school books singed falling into their gardens. When I got to the school the children were playing just as if it was a normal day. It struck me the resilience and sense of hope they carried for us all and particularly the parents. This was their home and a community we all loved. Sadly, with the fire many of the residents were moved out of the borough. Many parents wanted to keep the link and sense of home/community to stay with the school. One family took taxis to and from their evacuation home back to their school everyday. And I get it, when there’s been a terrible disaster moving people out of their homes their community/loved areas doesn’t help. Introducing new schools and new people is added stress. People need their community and familiarity at a time like this. Being part of a community brings comfort, safety and routine. And through a sense of home, normality is maintained and healing can happen.