Down to a fine art

When I was ten my art teacher said, 'Elizabeth, never forget your art' '“ and I never did '“ but my transition to the art world was preceded by a lengthy but useful detour via legal practice.

In comparison with life as an impoverished artist the law offered good remuneration prospects. I was also attracted by the idea of being a bit of a trail blazer, for it was a time when the legal world was an almost exclusively male domain. So I read law at Leeds and had a whale of a time '“ with only a handful of women in a class of a hundred!

I served my articles in private practice in Oxford and, after qualifying, joined the firm's property department, where I worked until the birth of my first child. There was no maternity leave in those days, so I had to leave. But I wanted to bring up my kids myself, and so property, which I'd rather fallen into, turned out to be a good choice; it is particularly suited to part-time work, which is what I did off and on for the next few years.

In the mid-eighties I returned to full-time work as a partner in a North London practice, running a branch office just at the time when competitive cut-price conveyancing took hold. Business was brisk and I had a heavy workload (and a broad mix of work). But with a husband who had a demanding full-time career, and two school-aged children who I was still trying to look after with minimum outside help, it all became too much.

Having it all

Not only this, but my creative side was still tugging at me. It was time to move on. So I ditched the partnership and took a job share at Bates Wells and Braithwaite, a charity-based practice in the City, on a similar salary for half the hours. With congenial colleagues, interesting work, less stress, and time at last to pursue my art, it felt like I was having it all!

In 1991, I held my first solo show. Then the recession struck and I was made redundant. I don't think I would have chosen to give up the law because my job sharing arrangement (by now with another central London firm, Baileys Shaw and Gillett) was suiting me too well. But I decided not to look for another job in the law.

Even then I didn't leap headfirst into the world of fine art, but spent a year doing voluntary work in the community for the Royal Free Hospital Trust in order to gain the required 'clinical' experience for a place on a post-graduate diploma course in art therapy, something which had interested me for some time.

After my diploma, I acquired a studio in south-east London, within a community of artists, and got on with my art. At the same time, in my new role as a state registered art therapist, I helped run Studio Upstairs, a charity near Regent's Park operating a working art studio for people with mental health problems. This was based in the Diorama Arts Centre, where I held my second exhibition in 1996.

Drawing on experience

Small charities have a big need for lawyer-type skills, and after a few years I found myself being called upon, first to edit the charity's first annual report (winning the 1996 Charities' Annual Report and Accounts Award) and later to help more generally in a management role. I enjoyed this very much, but with my art career taking off, and feeling that I'd already spent too much of my life 'not painting', after a while I reluctantly decided to leave; I wanted to devote myself full time to my art.

My life now, as a full-time painter, isn't really a job; it's what I am. If you were to ask me for advice on how to make a similar change from the law to art, or to another creative pursuit, I'd say listen to your heart, and the rest will follow '“ maybe not easily '“ but opportunities for change will present themselves.

I have no regrets about my time spent in the profession. On the contrary, it prepared me well, in terms of hard work and discipline, for the very tough world of fine art, where the artist has little leverage. My law practice taught me to think clearly, as well as to understand the workings of the commercial world '“ both invaluable tools for any career.