Surface, tension, temporality.

I am drawn to materials that possess a sense of impermanence (naturally derived) or in contrast, resilience (manufactured). Accessing materials that are existing in various states of deconstruction or construction whether a derelict building site or a desert.

I recharge in nature but feel energised by the consistent pulse of a city.

The material that I have worked with the most is bamboo charcoal, which I discovered in relation to the importance and various usages of bamboo in Japanese agriculture, architecture and craft. The process of burning and charring the plant into charcoal, transforming it into a regenerative agent for soil, health and purification interested me.

Decay and erosion are symbols of impermanence and existence. I like that the materials will continue to react and change over time, they may decay or erode the same way buildings or environments do as a result of elemental forces or human interference.

I think the element of risk is what is interesting. Being unafraid to explore the possibilities of material is where something new develops.

I prefer to see the works as constructions, built up of layers and with materials in conversation with each other. I see this as a process of painting.

I spend a lot of time observing surfaces, topographies and the architecture of places, noticing the layering and amalgamation of materials, shapes, form and colour - something I think about whilst making work.

I often make marks into, oxidise and burn surfaces and this interference provides markers that disrupt somehow the more natural processes that are present.

So in some ways it's less about a visual decision but about the levels of interference that are active when choosing to stop disrupting and to leave a landscape as it is.

I've always been fascinated with the composition of the earth and the complexity of non-human time. I'm compelled to understand geological processes to inform a deeper connection and relationship to nature.

Lippard refers to landscape, or place as 'the locus of desire'; that environments are an integral part of our existence. As a curator and a critic, she uplifted the practices of female, conceptual artists like Eva Hesse, shifting the gaze to the eroticism within the materiality and processes of their work rather than their gender. The legacy of Lippard's contribution to art and activism resonates with me deeply and enriches my practice.

The Scent of Time by Byung-Chul Han.

I was making work in my studio which at the time was a derelict office block in the financial district. I incorporated work that I made in the desert and had brought back with me on the plane. In the studio, I was recontextualising the work that I had made in the desert, now placed in a hyper urban environment. This was something that Helen helped me to realise through conversation and exploration of turning my research and practice into an exhibition. I collaborated with two friends, a material researcher and a writer, Abbie Adams and Hatty Nestor. Both women having an understanding of the desert, from lived experience and their own personal practices, produced a visual archive and essay to experience alongside the works. I felt very supported to have built the exhibition in such an intimate and connected way.

I would love to exhibit at the Chichu Art Museum designed by Tadao Ando on the island of Naoshima.

Mostly dub, some ambient. Currently Paul St. Hilaire.

Watching the sunset and the moonrise at the same time, standing on the top ledge of a dune in the desert.

Dancing and herbs.

Archaeology always fascinated me.

Not to do it. It gave me permission to pursue an artistic pathway that was most authentically me.

I prefer for my work to pose or invite questions rather than trying to answer them. I hope my work, through its material entanglement offers space for the viewer to reflect upon the temporality of their environment.