I grew up in Kent, surrounded by quiet countryside and small-town life. Coming to London for university was a complete contrast, but I’ve grown to love that duality between the calmness at home and the vibrant energy in the city.

School wasn’t always easy. I was bullied when I was younger and moved primary schools in Year 6, which completely changed things for the better. From then on, I threw myself into every opportunity from sports, gymnastics, Duke of Edinburgh to joining the cadets. I spent six years in the Combined Cadet Force, eventually becoming a sergeant. It taught me discipline, leadership and how to stay calm when people twice my age are shouting instructions at me on an army training field.

Gymnastics also shaped me. I trained seriously for years and later volunteered as a coach, including in classes for disabled gymnasts. Working one-to-one with young people who had very different needs to my own was something I found incredibly meaningful. I often think back to a gymnast with cerebral palsy who lit up every time he found his balance, or the little boy with ADHD whose energy we channelled into movement instead of trying to contain it. I didn’t know then that I was neurodivergent myself.

I was diagnosed with dyslexia at 18, after years of feeling that school was harder for me than it seemed to be for everyone else. My ADHD diagnosis came later, just this past summer. Both were moments of clarity, and in hindsight they explain so much. From how slowly I read, to why my brain jumps between ideas, to the way I instinctively gravitate towards visual and physical ways of learning.

Art was the one place where none of that felt like a barrier. I’ve painted for as long as I can remember. My family isn’t made up of practising artists, but everyone can draw, and creativity was always encouraged. Painting was the thing I loved most, but various factors led me to study art history instead.

I did my undergraduate degree in art history at the Courtauld, and it opened a new world for me. I learned to think deeply about art, but I also realised that talking about it isn’t the same as making it. Everything truly clicked during a module on technical art history, when I discovered painting conservation. It felt like the perfect bridge between creativity, craftsmanship, science and history. But I also knew that to go into conservation, I needed to rebuild my relationship with making. After years of academic study, I wanted to get back into the studio, develop my skills and reconnect with the practical, creative side of art.

That’s what brought me to UEL. I saw the MA Fine Art as an important foundation for the future I want, giving me space to grow as an artist while preparing for conservation training. Applying for the postgraduate scholarship felt like part of that step forward, and receiving it gave me a real sense that I was exactly where I should be.

The course has been exactly what I needed. After years of theory-heavy study, it’s freeing to spend my days in a studio surrounded by tutors and students who genuinely support each other.

My undergrad has helped massively because I have so much context to draw on, and I love the art history components taught here. But more than anything, it has been refreshing to rediscover the joy of making. I didn’t paint much during my degree, and only really picked it up again when preparing my portfolio. Now I’m working on a piece for our exhibition at the end of November and developing a set of smaller companion works. It feels exciting to create again.

Looking ahead, my long-term goal is to train as a painting conservator, and I’m applying to conservation programmes this year at The Courtauld, Cambridge and Northumbria. I hope to work in museums, move into private practice and eventually run my own conservation studio.

Helena Groom-Shorter

MA Fine Art