Knowing something of the context from which these extraordinary drawings spring gives me an insider's view and a different understanding of the events and people depicted. But, as with all good art, the spectator does not need to know the backstory. These images must be judged by their effectiveness as art and as communicators of real human experience. Selina's graphic skill is unquestioned: she draws boldly and with considerable intensity and power. She also uses colour with determined invention and emotional relevance. Food in these pictures is the safety valve or escape route, and thus it is the food that gets most of the colour as the distraction and reward it is. The harrowing events of a family's decline are relayed in black and white, though there are always shades of grey. Nothing is quite as straightforward as it seems.

Selina's portrayal of her parents in their last years is a celebration of tough love. We are confronted here with the same sort of comment on the human condition, and the dilemmas it throws up, as we find in the work of Paul Rego. (Rego was another of that group of artist friends and contemporaries, though slightly younger and living in North London.) Rego was a great storyteller, and Selina follows in that tradition, taking Hogarth as her exemplar. The sequence of drawings which makes up Snow Story is hard-hitting and sometimes distressing, but ultimately optimistic. As Selina seeks closure in her personal history, she also celebrates the endurance of the human spirit, and ultimately, of love.

Andrew Lambirth, April 2025