Anthologia VI | Bobbye Fermie
“Hope’ is the thing with feathers
By Emily Dickinson
“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -
I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.
Prices are for unframed works unless otherwise indicated and are subject to an additional £15 postage fee within the UK (,more for framed pieces and £25 ROW). Collection in London is FREE, please select option at checkout. All works are available for sale online throughout the exhibition.
Bobbye Fermie’s practice explores experiences of belonging, personal boundaries, and social anxiety through delicately constructed layers of painting and collage. Working with washy acrylics on canvas and watercolour on paper, she often depicts a solitary female figure set within imagined interiors—spaces that hover between the private and the public. These interiors function as protective enclosures: quiet sanctuaries where the figure can retreat, reflect, and endure.
Fermie’s work resonates closely with Emily Dickinson’s poem Hope is the thing with feathers, in which hope is described as a fragile yet persistent presence that resides within us, offering comfort without demand. Like Dickinson’s bird, the figures in Fermie’s paintings inhabit spaces of stillness, holding resilience within vulnerability. The interiors she constructs become emotional vessels, shelters for inner life amid uncertainty.
Drawing on cultural depictions of the home—from pre-Renaissance painting to theatrical set design—Fermie reimagines domestic space as both psychological and symbolic terrain. In this series with Violet Hour, her work is shaped by experiences of loss, solitude, and quiet communion. She envisions a space where grief can be shared, and where hope, though subdued, continues to softly endure.
