I grew up in Croy, a wee former mining village outside Glasgow. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows each other and where not much has changed, fundamentally, in the 150 or so years since it’s establishment. It’s predominantly Catholic with deep Irish roots. The village epitomises working class and the struggles that come to define it.
I’m the youngest of four siblings and very early on in my life we lost our father, Myles, to a sudden heart attack. Things were never quite the same afterwards, as expected, it left a void in all of us which we each tried, in our own way, to fix.
I was diagnosed with depression 5 years ago, although I’ve lived with it for close to 9 or so. It’s not something I like to talk about. Usually words fail me when trying to articulate the incessant nonsense going through my head at any given moment. I started drawing again at the start of last year after spending time with someone that got me excited about art again.
I had previously studied art in school and more recently, I had started a HND in photography although I dropped out halfway through, for a second time, as a result of a setback in my mental health. This time, instead of drawing or taking photographs of things I was told or expected to, I drew things that were relevant to me and to what I was feeling.
A lot of my work is fairly bleak and can appear miserable at first glance but it’s something we’ve all felt and experienced at some point. There are low points in everyone’s day and some of the sentiments I express reflect that. Moreover, I draw and it makes me feel better, it gives me control and clarity if only for a few hours. That’s something I want to share with people.
Follow Wullie’s work on Instagram at: @liverlungwullie
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