Senka Loosemore

With a diverse professional background in graphic design, I have consistently sought to merge creativity with purpose. My journey has taken me from working alongside David Hockney and designing for the Royal Mail, to founding a fashion design business in Bangalore.

Following a ten-year career in advertising with blue-chip clients, and a subsequent decade as a holistic body therapist, I have most recently turned my focus to Fine Art/documentary photography.

For the past eight years, I have been developing a body of photographic work that explores mental health through self-portraiture and still life. This ongoing project aims to dissolve the stigma surrounding mental health, creating space for open dialogue, empathy, and understanding.

In parallel with my photographic practice, I express my emotional landscape through abstract watercolor paintings, which I call “soulscapes.” These works act as vessels for healing and reflection, inviting viewers to engage with their own inner worlds.

Exposure Syndrome

We all put our best foot forward—smiling, nodding, saying we’re fine. It’s how we keep the wheels of society turning. A necessary rhythm, perhaps, to avoid being crushed by the weight of others’ burdens.

But in a world filtered through perfection—especially on social media—our ability to connect with compassion and authenticity is quietly eroding. The constant gloss masks our deeper truths.

Sometimes, we need to pause. To let the mask slip. To show our underbellies—our vulnerabilities, our conditions, the parts we often hide.

This exhibition is my pause. A space where I reveal another side of myself—my shadow side. Because I, like you, am multifaceted. Through this work, I invite you to lean into that truth. To see yourself in these images. To know that it’s okay to be raw, to be real, to be human.

Exposure Syndrome exhibition hero image

The Dishes

Combined ADHD and ADD
616mm x 1169mm

2025

All my life, I was told I was careless, lazy, distracted—a dreamer, a loner. Misaligned. Out of focus. Never quite “normal.”

In the early 90s I launched a promising design career, working with the Royal Mail and David Hockney. But the same old judgments followed, and so did the setbacks.

Everyday tasks—brushing my teeth, making tea, doing the dishes—felt impossible to sustain. Building simple habits seemed out of reach.

In 2017, I was diagnosed with combined ADHD and ADD. That moment re-framed everything.

This work reflects that shift—how understanding can transform struggle into insight, and chaos into creativity.

Dark Night of the Soul

Bipolar Type 1 - Pshychosis
616mm x 1169mm

2025

In many cultures, psychosis is viewed not as a mental illness but as a Spiritual Emergency. My own experiences reflected this perspective. I felt as though a veil was being lifted to reveal a deeper reality, allowing me to see, hear, and experience life in a more profound and enlightened way. While this was at times awe-inspiring, it was also accompanied by fear and uncertainty.

I've encountered a number of “Dark Nights of the Soul,” some of which felt like an ego death, and others like a re-enactment of past trauma. During the night that I have represented in this piece, I was convinced that my daughter had been killed, that my legs had been broken, and that I was blinded by fear. Through years of reflection, I now view these episodes as both a rapid spiritual journey and a mental health condition in need of treatment. I believe a more comprehensive understanding is needed—one that bridges both the spiritual and mental health aspects, which is currently lacking.

24 Hours

Viral Cronic Fatigue Syndrome
616mm x 1169mm

2025

Life gave me a good battering, and until 2017, I kept getting up and pushing forward. I rebelled against abuse, neglect, mental illness—my own and others’—grief, and the weight of single parenting.

They called me the “smiler.” I hid behind it, worked hard, loved deeply, and explored the world with wide eyes and open hands.

Then I hit a wall. A virus knocked me down for six months. I couldn’t get out of bed. Fatigue isn’t tiredness—it’s a collapse. Like batteries that never fully recharge, no matter how much you will them to.

In this work, I’ve dropped the smile. This is what lives underneath, on repeat, 24 Hours a day, every day, year after year.