The making of a space on a flat surface in such a way that allows the loss of orientation and scale is a magical thing to me. Placing into this, ambiguous objects that are part of that space is how I lose myself. To be able to see any detail of my surroundings, I have to rush out to the periphery of the Universe and look back from there. As if I'm looking back from the end of my life, or I'm a giant moving at the speed of light, and a painting has to be a blink of an eye but also a whole life. I have no sense of time whatsoever. There is quite simply, 'now' and then there is 'not now'.
Painting for me is an anxious process, as there are so many moments to capture in all the moments I spend painting; so much to gather before it disappears. The smaller the canvas, the more the paint, and the more moments spent on them. I paint to reveal possibility, to be able to see where I'm going, and to throw off confusing half-remembered baggage. I paint to find some sense of continuity in my disparate world. This is the view from where I'm standing.


Painting for me involves a lot of watching and waiting, hoping it will work out and become something that will make me feel calm and at peace with the world. The dystopian place doesn't interest me, but ambiguity does, and being playful with space.

Until recently I called myself a landscape painter, but I realised that this was misleading. Everything is landscape. I like a painting to have aspects of landscape and still life. The object placed in a space in an integrated surface.

I'm not interested in theories of art. There is nothing to improve on. Painting is about integrating the materials with the subject so they feel like they are the same thing. A kind of dance between mark and meaning.

I'm with Susan Sontag, when she talked about being against interpretation of art. A painting must hold you in a kind of enchanted moment when your attention doesn't wander. A moment before grammar kicks in.

My current work has involved going back to earlier days when it was more about still life and interiors. Now I want to bring everything together, inside and outside. When I was a student I was obsessed with Morandi, looking to his later work where landscape seemed to merge with the still life, and all sense of scale was lost.

I never want to forget that the paintings are objects When you place them in a space, on a wall, then that space is changed. They must change how you relate to the space around it, and how you feel in that space.

My small, many layered paintings are little worlds without a sense of time or scale. As an artist who has adhd my brain focuses on the connections and relationships between things more than on specific bits of information, and exploring how my brain works has been a lifelong fascination.