<p>There is a particular kind of vulnerability in opening your studio to the public. Every half-finished canvas, every rolled-up sketch you have been meaning to look at again, every corner where the brushes go when you are not sure what to do with them — all of it suddenly visible. All of it, in some way, <em>you</em>.</p>
<p>I joined <strong>Carshalton Arts Open Studios (CAOS)</strong> for the first time in 2026. Two weekends in May. My studio in South London, alongside dozens of other artists across Carshalton and the wider Sutton area.</p>
<p>I did not know what to expect.</p>
<h2>The First Hour</h2>
<p>The first visitor arrived at 10:04am on the first Saturday. A woman in her sixties, on her own, with the calm unhurried manner of someone who has done this many times before. She walked around slowly, said almost nothing for the first few minutes, and then stopped in front of <em>Carshalton — A Pond Reflection</em>.</p>
<p>"That is exactly how it looks at seven in the morning," she said. "I walk past there every day."</p>
<p>That is when I understood what open studios is really for. It is not for the artist. It is for the person who has been walking past something their whole life and suddenly sees it held still.</p>
<h2>What People Asked About</h2>
<p>Over the two weekends, I spoke with over two hundred visitors. The questions fell into roughly four categories:</p>
<ul> <li><strong>Process questions:</strong> How long does it take? What paper do you use? Do you work from photographs?</li> <li><strong>Place questions:</strong> Is that Carshalton Ponds? I recognise that pub. Which park is that?</li> <li><strong>Feeling questions:</strong> Why does this one feel calmer than that one? What were you thinking when you painted this?</li> <li><strong>Practical questions:</strong> Can I commission a painting of my street? How much is the print?</li> </ul>
<p>The feeling questions surprised me most. People were not just looking at the paintings — they were reading them. Comparing one mood against another. Asking why a particular painting made them feel like sitting down for a moment.</p>
<p>That is the therapeutic work doing what it is supposed to do, without any explanation from me.</p>
<h2>The Painting I Almost Did Not Show</h2>
<p>I nearly left <em>Racing Thoughts Golden Calm</em> in the storage rack. It is the most explicitly ADHD piece I have made — a painting that tries to show what it feels like when the mental noise finally, momentarily, goes quiet. I was not sure it would land with a general audience.</p>
<p>It was the most talked-about work of the weekend.</p>
<p>Three people asked to buy it on the first day. A man in his forties told me his son had just been diagnosed with ADHD and the painting "explained something he could not find words for." A therapist from Croydon asked for a print for her waiting room.</p>
<p>Lesson learned: the most specific work is often the most universal.</p>
<h2>On Being a Neurodivergent Artist in a Community Space</h2>
<p>CAOS was the first time I introduced myself to a general public as an ADHD artist rather than simply as a watercolour artist. I was not sure how that framing would be received.</p>
<p>It was received well. More than well. Several visitors disclosed their own neurodivergent experiences within minutes of the conversation starting. There is a hunger, I think, for art that acknowledges how differently minds can work — that does not treat the baseline as universal.</p>
<p>I will be back for CAOS 2027. And I will be showing the difficult paintings.</p>
<h2>Commissions That Came from CAOS</h2>
<p>Three commissions came directly from the open studios weekend. A painting of a house in Carshalton for a couple moving away. A river scene for a therapy practice. A wedding anniversary gift — a view of the church where the couple married, thirty years ago.</p>
<p>If you are interested in commissioning a painting of a place that means something to you, the <a href="/commission">commission page</a> is the best place to start. I am currently taking bookings for summer 2026 delivery.</p>
<p><em>Simon</em></p>
