#1: A life half lived

This is me. Somehow, this little lad, head as big as his body, sparkling clear eyes open, drinking in the light of the wonders and horrors of the world, he is the core of the man I am now. Almost every body cell has been replaced, even the bones. Not the neurons though, those long-lived brain cells that live on, determining how I think, feel and remember. They're the last remaining physical part of this boy. I've carried them with me in this aging, metamorphing vessel, all these years - my core personality. I carry this little boy in my brain. He's the pilot.

I am 44.

If I'm lucky enough to live to 88, then I'm already half cooked. And of course, none of us get to decide. I may be well into my second half already; I may have a year, a week, an hour. Maybe this is the last thing I will ever write.

This half-way point, the summit before the journey back perhaps, it gets you thinking and reflecting. For an artist like me, its the sort of moment in life that makes you decide to create your first solo show. Its a show that's been sneaking up on me for the last decade, and if I don't do it now, then perhaps I never will. That's what this show's about in fact - saying what needs to be said before it's all too late, before time swallows me and everyone I know whole. It's where the idea came from, the so-many-things-left-unsaid.

And so that is what I will do. And it begins right here, a place to collect thoughts and feelings and memories, and to think about how to bring them to the stage.

Charlie Narewski Scullion, Jan 1st 2026