I have always loved drawing and painting. When I was about eight and living with my parents in Norway, I remember day after day would be spent lying on the floor with a sketchbook, a pencil and a book full of drawings by the world’s great artists. I would try to copy everything from that book onto my paper. The results were horrible, but as I did more and more, the practice began to discipline my eye and my hand. The more I drew, the easier and better my scribbles became and that was satisfying, but the best thing about it was how time flew by when I was drawing. The winters are very long in Scandinavia and in those days we had no television, so unless children were self motivated and resourceful, the days could be endless. When, some years later,  I  graduated from school, I went to the Guildford School of Art in the U.K. and since then I have drawn something almost every day of my life. Now that I am a bit older I find that drawing or painting reverses the way that time passes. It seems to slow it down and while I am focused on producing an image I am insulated from our increasingly upsetting and noisy world.