My journey into collage would not have been the same without the kindness of a stranger that held me the key to my salvation and vocation when I was eight.
He was a travelling master cutler from Burgundy who set his stall at the village fair. I was sitting on the wall that surrounded the property where I grew up and he asked me to fill his water bottle. As a thank you, he gifted me a pair of scissors that have never left my pencil case since.
I had them sharpened for the first time in 2013 when I was living in Malta. I remember getting emotional as the artisan was running his wheel through the blades. I felt as if a piece of my heart was being polished. In that moment, I understood the visceral connection with my scissors. All these years, they had become an extension of my soul and the companion holding my hands in my creative journey.
To this day, I continue cutting my analogue collages with these precious blades. Every paper cut, every artwork carries within the marvel of an eight-year-old whose world was illuminated by a random act of kindness.