Even though I’m not a model/activist, I know a thing or two about depression. I mean, I’m sure everyone has experienced it at some point, and if you haven’t, no matter how many times you’ve read ‘The Secret”, you will. (spoiler alert)
I graduated from Chelsea College of Art this year and I clocked halfway through the course that I didn’t want to be a painter. It wasn’t an epiphanic thing, more that I became increasingly terrified of becoming like Rufus Humphrey (not really having a job but just being around a lot of exposed brick). I’m not slandering artists or saying that they’re all destined to be poor, I just wasn’t loved up enough on painting to pursue it against the odds.