Remember this name: Elia #thefirstreview

I have just seen the completed 12-minute video my beautiful beautiful 19-year-old daughter has written, directed, edited and produced for Foundation Art & Media.

She is already on a distinction; she has made her teacher cry with her work; it is first-class art around memory, childhood, adulthood, and the highs & lows of insomnia.

I am so so proud of her, and although she gets cross when I cry, I cannot but realise she will be the artist I never was.  And I am so happy this will be like this: that I was able to give her the space and the enabling and the facilitating my parents refused me.  And that some of my yearning for the expressiveness of soul has in some way been transmitted by my own gentle encouragement, through from one hurting generation to the other.

She is now a British citizen; became one two days before the deadline to register to vote.  She will be voting for sure; and I am just glad that she is growing up into the productive non-conformist which she certainly always will be, with a level of emotional intelligence that shall always be outside my grasp, and a perspicacity and wisdom that can only ennoble the future our youth together must surely now be allowed to create.

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