In response to a life of contrasting landscapes between the world of humans and the wider world that we live on, my work pieces together dialogues of destruction and growth. Enter into the barren micro landscapes of wastepaper or the jungles of knotted plants grown from a teacup of city soil with the red glow of consumers craning for replications of a decadent dream looming in the background.
Islands, coastlines and horizons awake a curiosity that drives me to make fumbled attempts at replications; the aim always being to reproduce the feeling of awe experienced when stood at the mouth of a valley or sat at the top of a mountain. To grasp this exploration of the world and bring it into harsh definition through human constructions sheds light on the relationship we have built with our home.
So, I ask, do you remember a time when the earth was intensely fascinating to you? When a tuft of grass was a forest for your eyes to wander through, when a rock became a mountain and a shell a home. I ask you to revisit the child-like fascination you once had, to explore the world around you, your gardens, our streets and homes, and form new perspectives. I often think about the earth beneath the paving slabs and what seeds and animals might dwell there just waiting to spring forth.
The Earth is forever our supporter and we are forever in its debt.