“Nonno’s Shed”

Fabric, Wool and paint on canvas.

I am twelve and the spectre of the shed down the back of my grandparent’s yard becomes an eerie creepy patch of darkness under threatening storm clouds,  amongst the playfulness of weeds, burnt leaves and a veggie patch.  I can still see every detail of Nonno’s yard, which I would stare at each morning through the bedroom window framed by the remnants of a lace curtain.  Our play amongst the random patterns of plants and wet grass were defined by the fence-line, which was the boundary to our world.

When I venture back now to my childhood playground, the yard seems much smaller as I have grown bigger.  I see the shed that used to be so terrifying in my dreams and I feel it pulling me back to a time in the past.  I want to go and sit in its darkness alone with my childhood memories of freedom and fear. I want to go and sit with the memory of my Nonno.