“I panicked, thought what if I can’t make anything ever again? I’d had tough moments – a divorce, losing my mum – but the space I was in this time was frightening. I said to myself, ‘I’ve got a show next year, I have responsibilities to my practice, my gallery.’”
The artist is recounting that moment and in the telling, her fear is palpable. We’re sitting having tea and lemon butter cake at Cawthorn’s kitchen bench, Maggie the whippet is circling for crumbs. There is a wall of art, on one side, paintings by Timothy Cook, Idris Murphy, a line of soft sculptures by Cawthorn arranged along the lid of the piano. There
