I drew warm orange tents on dark hills first in 2009 and 3 years later I managed to find the right tent and the right hill. I miss judged when darkness would fall so I spent 2 hours sitting in the drizzle in my tent waiting for dusk. I used slide film so I could project it on a wall life size and it would really glow. Looking inviting but not tangible.
Me and my mum often camped in Cornwall. It was only at 13 that I stopped sleeping on the same lilo. When I was smaller I sometimes had night terrors and in the tent on stormy nights I could not understand that the waves would not wash us off our peninsular. The only thing that made me feel safe was being curled up with mum with my face pressed into her. I do not think I have ever felt as protected as on those nights.
When I went away to an isolated welsh town for Art School I felt powerfully homesick but I knew that the place I missed did not exist anymore. I made a series of tent pieces where you could not enter the invitingly lit tent. Tents feel safe but are only made of flimsy fabric and are pitched in alien places; as such they described for me my longing to go somewhere ungo-able namely my childhood home.