Anthony
Anthony is a painter. He lost both his parents to suicide by the age of 13.
In 2020, he had a solo exhibition The Space Left Behind exploring how his art had been influenced by grief.
“I went to the gallery at Upper Mill to speak to the owner, Julian, about putting on an exhibition.
I knew very quickly that my art wasn’t what he was looking for; their stuff was more contemporary than mine. But he was very kind.
Then he said: “I don’t really see you in your artwork. There’s nothing personal.”
I didn’t plan on saying anything, it just came out. I told him, “Well, I can’t let people see me. The real me is a child who’s trapped inside.” I told him everything. He just sat there in shock.
After that, we thanked each other and off I went. It was only when I was sat at home that I realised I’d been painting things that made people happy. But I thought, ‘I should paint something that represents how I feel.’
My dad was missing for two weeks. I remember hiding, listening in to my grandparents' conversations. I painted that and called it The Boy Behind the Door.
It’s a self-portrait. It’s the child in me who’s still waiting for his father to come home.
Some of my paintings are the kind you’d put up in your kitchen. Playful, lighthearted pictures. But the other side is very emotional.
I painted a photo of my dad from when he was about 12. They’d been on holiday in Devon and he met two pals. In the photo, he’s the boy in the middle. They’re all holding hands and he’s got a smile on his face.
That photograph is heartbreaking to me. A lad of 12. All that future and hope. The way he’s smiling. What was he doing moments before that picture was taken? What was he doing moments after?
He was gorgeous, my father. He was such a beautiful boy. And he was dead by the time he was 30.
I painted that photo and I cried and cried and cried.
When he saw The Boy Behind The Door Julian said, “That’s probably the most important thing you’ll paint in your life.”
I couldn’t believe how many people turned up to the exhibition. Hundreds came. And people were so affected.
My dad used to like gardening. He didn’t have a greenhouse, but we had a shed-type thing out the back. After he’d gone, we had to empty out the house. On a bench, there was a gardening glove and some clippers. I looked at them and thought ‘When he put those down, he never knew it would be the last time.’
So I painted it: the glove, the clippers, the twine. The lady who bought it said, “I know it’s about your father, but it reminds me of mine. It makes me cry, but it makes me happy too.”
I love that. Even though the paintings come from my sadness, the people who’ve bought them tell me how happy they’ve made them. How they’ve made them think and feel.
My grandparents were brilliant, but they were products of their time. Emotions weren’t really talked about. They never used the word ‘suicide’.
My grandfather used to say “Men shake hands”. That was the only physical contact I’d ever had with him.
Years later, my grandmother went into hospital. She was there for months. My grandfather was at home, but he had shingles. I was working 10 hour shifts, visiting the hospital at lunch time, clocking off and going round to their house to bring my grandfather some food.
One day, I went into his bedroom. He looked like the Elephant Man with the shingles and he was in so much pain. The sunlight was streaming through the curtains and he put his hand out to shake hands.
I thought, ‘I can’t live the way I’ve been living.’ And I sat on the bed and I hugged him and kissed him and told him I loved him. And he did it back.
Once I opened up a bit, there was no going back.
“Even though the paintings come from my sadness, the people who’ve bought them tell me how happy they’ve made them.”
I grew up thinking I mustn’t be any good, that I was worthless. My parents’ deaths felt like an abandonment. So I’d constantly do things so that people liked me, but then if they got too close I didn’t want to risk suffering again. In the past, I’d keep people at arm’s length.
Now though, I tell my children that I love them. I don’t want them to be scared of falling in love.”