In all honesty I hardly know where to start. In a nutshell, 2024 began badly and got worse. There were many times when I thought of shutting down this blog, but I kept hoping that things would get better. In particular I’ve had a few health issues that knocked me sideways for many months. At time of writing this piece, it’s mid-November. My health issues are (touch wood) under control. As the year draws to a close I feel that I’ve finally reached the light after living in the darkness for too long.

If I have one takeaway from this year, it’s to take nothing for granted. Life is precious, but it’s also very fragile. Whoever and whatever we are, we have no idea what life has in store for us. We have no choice but to live each day as if it’s our last. Cliches? Absolutely. But many clichés are rooted in universal truths based on our shared experiences as extraordinary but flawed human beings.

© Helen Kitson (2024). Assemblage inspired by the great Joseph Cornell

I have produced very little new art this year (but more than I would have believed possible in my darkest moments). I have also read very few books this year, less than 30 to be precise (compared to my usual 100 or so). And most of those have been art books and detective fiction (and thank goodness for both of those genres, which have kept me relatively sane!).

© Helen Kitson (2024)

The artworks I’m showcasing in this post were all made during 2024 and I’m particularly proud of them because they reflect the fact that I was working under the most difficult of circumstances, determined to push through fear, anxiety and sadness, forcing myself to keep going, to make my mark; my stubborn refusal not to give in/give up.

2024 hasn’t been entirely without its good bits, of course. I had wonderful holidays in Stirling and Minehead.  I am eternally grateful for my family and friends, and in particular for a new friendship I made this year. Thanks to a Facebook group I met Dawn, and although we’ve never met in ‘real life’ (she lives in Scotland; I don’t!), she has become a dear friend. The Facebook group in question was for people with a shared medical condition. Dawn and I both felt the group was too pessimistic, too negative, but it brought us together, and for that I could not be more grateful. In some ways we are incredibly different, but in the ways that count we are so similar, and our daily, nourishing exchange of long emailed letters has kept me going through the toughest of times.

© Helen Kitson (2024)

At the risk of jinxing myself, I have high hopes for 2025 – not that it will be amazing, but that it will be an opportunity for personal and creative growth. I have learnt a great deal about myself (both good and bad) this year. I have been forced to confront some deeply held values, to make difficult compromises, to own my mistakes, to accept that complacency is dangerous.

So I’m still here, still making art, and still grateful for everything life – messy, confusing, exhilarating life – has to offer.

© Helen Kitson (2024). Mixed media collage on a vintage book cover (sold)