Summer Art Competition

Thank you to everyone who got involved with our summer art competition, whether through submitting an entry yourself or through helping spread the word. We had 38 entries and were absolutely blown away with the thought that had gone in to them and how honest you were about how eczema makes you feel. They definitely hit an emotional nerve with our judges, even causing them to shed a few tears!

Our three judges had the unenviable task of scoring the entries against four criteria:

Effort and Commitment

Overall Impact

This page shows the top three entries for each age category (12 and under, 13-17, 18 and over). The winners have been emailed with their prizes.

Now it’s over to you to vote for your favourite. Which will receive the People’s Choice Award? Please take a few minutes to look at these nine entries, make a note of the numbers next to your two favourite entries and then vote for them using this short form: Vote for People’s Choice

Please cast your vote by 11pm, Monday 13^th October. Thank you!

2. Hailey from Bingham

This piece of artwork illustrates a tiger, a persona, a representation of myself and my life with eczema. With the traditional Chinese style reflecting my culture, the tiger’s defensive stance and its stripes are placed where I have suffered with eczema. The eyes around the tiger symbolise the glares of people around me every day due to the condition.

4. Lochlan from Derby

My artwork fits in with the theme of ‘Me and my eczema’ it depicts how I feel about my eczema which is displayed as fire to show the burning sensation that is temporarily stopped by itching the skin. The fingers are grey to show bits of skin that damaged by scratching.

5. Frankie from Plymouth

Uni Packing List

bedsheets.

dark bedsheets that won’t show the blood, the ooze, the crust, the mess that you are but not too dark. you still feel sick when you see skin flakes and chunks on dark bedding, from that time when you were twelve and you were screaming and bleeding and it just kept coming and coming and the feeling of ointment sticking to skin flakes, like the world’s most hellish chicken goujon. which is almost funny until you think
how the hell are you ever meant to share a bed with someone one day
how could they love this
when they couldn’t even touch your hands…
hands which scrape themselves raw with no reprieve for gentle touch
you were eleven when that girl gagged at the touch of your hand, putting the same chair back on the rack in assembly
she gagged, you cried
wiping your tears on a cuffed blazer sleeve, eyelids flaking onto navy blazer
later when the DT teacher told you to go wash the dust off, to take pride in your new uniform
how could you possibly explain
that the dust was from you and of you and some parasitic other
and that you wished
the ground could swallow you
dust to dust
instead you just stood there in the toilets, shivering, scratching, scrubbing
it was December, and you couldn’t wear tights
or else you would have to rip nylon from fusing to oozing sores
so instead you ran cold water over hands wringing and writhing
pain is like cold water, your brain just gets used to it

And you are still here, years later, tap running, hands bleeding.
But we will get there, to make this broken body home your own
and find you some new bedding.

My poem is about how my eczema impacts every part of my life, and something as simple, and seemingly exciting, as buying new things for university can be a mammoth task- dredging up all sorts of memories from the past, and fears for the future.

7. Yayha from Keighley

Beneath my skin

It starts with a tickle, then turns to a flame,
A silent battle I never name.
Dry and cracked, red and sore,
Each patch I hide, each mark I ignore.
People think it’s just a rash,
A bit of cream, it’s gone in a flash.
But they don’t feel it late at night,
When I’m still awake, trying not to fight.
I try to focus, I try to play,
But the itch won’t ever go away.
And sometimes stares hurt more than skin,
Like I’m something strange, or worn too thin.

But still I show up, sleeves rolled high,
Because I’m more than what you see with your eye.
Eczema’s tough — yeah, I won’t lie,
But I’m tougher still, and I’ll get by.
It’s part of me, but not my name.
I’ve learned to live with it, not feel shame.
So don’t just look — try to understand:
It’s not just skin. 

Itches and scratches, night and day,
Can’t stop, won’t stop, in every way,
Red and raw, it just won’t cease,
Why won’t it just leave me in peace?

I have written a poem to express my frustration and irritation about my eczema

9. Chidera from Romford

Me and my Eczema…. Submission describes relationship with eczema and what it’s like living with it.

Please remember cast your vote by 11pm, Monday 13^th October. Thank you!