Artist Alice Armstrong, from Douglas, is staging her first solo exhibition under the alias ‘Pinktoaster’. The show is currently running at the Erin Arts Centre in Port Erin until March 27. Island Life reporter Sadie Gilbert spoke to the 38-year-old artist, who recently received an ADHD diagnosis and draws inspiration from shapes and forms in the natural world, including mushrooms.

My art is deeply explorative.

I work with bold imagination — usually in acrylics for the colour, or with micro‑detail pens, biro, or pencil when I’m in a more intricate mood. A lot of my pieces begin in two ways: either with a completely blank mind or a mind that’s overwhelmed and blank in a different sense. From there, I pick apart shapes, patterns, and little sparks of possibility. Those tiny beginnings grow into full pieces, collections, themes, and sometimes full hyper‑fixations.

Pinktoaster was actually the username from the first email I ever created in college. ‘GreenJelly’ was taken, so I went for one thing I disliked at the time — the colour pink — and one thing I absolutely loved: toast. ‘Toaster’ just had a better ring to it.

My day job in eLearning taught me how essential user experience is. And my experience trying to establish myself as an artist — especially during a vulnerable time — showed me how isolating the world can feel when doors keep closing and feedback never arrives.

Because of that, I have a deep connection with underdogs, difference, and people who think or move through the world differently. I’m community‑driven at heart, and I see how much the island needs more connection and belonging.

I wanted this exhibition to offer equal access to everyone — not just for those who can physically attend.

I’m not much of a reader when I’m in gallery spaces myself — if the art doesn’t speak to me, an essay on the wall won’t change that. I also know there are a growing number of people that are more rushed, burnt out and more inattentive these days.

So, recording an audio guide taught me to explain my work clearly, honestly, and in a way that feels like a conversation rather than a lecture.

Honestly, this exhibition almost didn’t happen - three times. I kept convincing myself nobody wanted to see my work. Self‑belief was the hardest part. People would tell me they loved my art but couldn’t afford originals, so I spent a long time researching how to create high‑quality prints that were still affordable, because I didn’t want price to be the barrier between people and creativity in their spaces.

Now that I’ve finally achieved that, everything flows more naturally. It lines up with what I’ve always known deep down: my art is meant for the community, not for capitalism. Making it accessible in every sense — emotionally, physically, financially — feels like the most honest version of what my work is supposed to do.