Dear Auntie Audrey from Stephen

Dear Auntie Audrey, I can't help wondering what you would think of all the fuss. No one ever saw your scrapbooks while you were alive and now they are almost public property. The way people respond to them tells me that there could be even more attention in the future. What do you think of that? It's a discussion we have had as a family and of course there is no real answer since you are no longer here to give your opinion. A few thoughts have guided me: you were not averse to sharing your opinions and creations, both through your diligent letter-writing and your attempts to exhibit your artwork; the voice in your writing is consistently careful and persuasive as if written for an audience; as more people read your words, I see how well they respond to your view of the world. None of those thoughts gives us explicit permission to share your work, I know. I can only say I hope you would have appreciated the attention your unique worldview is now getting. Some of the postcards from the Wellcome Trust ask the same question. I could reply that my Mum, your sister, who stood by you, however difficult it was, as you struggled with your mental health, believes that your mother would have been delighted that the work is finally being seen. When we, your niece and nephew, discovered your massive collection which filled the maisonette in Clapham, we were drawn into the world you so diligently recorded. The scrapbooks of packaging, which you began to curate after a health visitor asked you to keep track of your diet, captured our imagination. I can't tell whether you enjoyed the task you set yourself, but it's clear you saw beauty, not only in the subjects in your hundreds of sketchbooks, but also in objects the rest of us see as mundane. ‘Intense colours’ you wrote next to a chocolate wrapper in a collage. You were serious about your tireless documentation, letter writing and campaigning and I imagine you dedicating as much time to it as many do to their careers. Readers of your work react to your dedication, but also to your playfulness and sense of humour. As a kid I enjoyed visiting you and Nana in London; you loved TV comedy and encouraged my interest in current affairs and the arts. Mum has told me about your youthful passions for tennis and cricket, opera and jazz, Tolstoy and Pepys. So I don't know if you would be pleased that the collection of diaries, scrapbooks and sketches which you preserved in every corner of your flat is seeing the light of day. Your vision of the world, moulded in part by your mental illness, nonetheless speaks to us. In my Mum’s words, you could ‘laugh like a drain’ which is what I hope you're doing at the belated recognition you are getting. Lots of love, Stephen