I embrace continuous fluidity and the power of working with imperfection to keep my mind open to learning, thinking, and doing. Trusting this process to gradually permeate my whole self, enabling steady nourishment and the awesome feral energy of unexpected epiphany moments.

I work instinctively and responsively with colour, marks, materials, and form; with music, ideas, full-body movement, and playful anarchy embedded in the making of my art. I enjoy the relationship between complexity and simplicity – the richness of multidimensionality in general, and specifically by mixing languages of painting, sculpture, and drawing.

I'm interested in the expanded field and think about how my work interacts with people and places. The known origins of art exist in an expansive field: from the portable scored ochre art of 134,000 years ago to paintings made and viewed by the flickering light of fiery torches on craggy cave surfaces roughly 90,000 years later.

Art (making and being with it) transcends the limitations of organised life and opens a portal to an enigmatic non-verbal connection with our deepest (fallible) humanity.

Being a low-income artist self-funded by my day job, and bringing up two young children, I work hard to find and develop ways of maintaining my practice by questioning systems which uphold a capitalist pressure of doing things in a certain way.

I believe strongly in autonomy and that my circumstances shouldn't prevent me from making ambitious art which is critically engaged and able to make contributions to contemporary art – without contorting myself, life, and art into an ideology which only benefits the ruling class. I do the best that I can with the resources I have, at a pace I can manage.

Aluminium cooking foil is a cheap, democratic material with many properties and much potential. It enables me to work with a variety of sizes, processes, and speeds. Conceptually, I like how the foil substrate makes the painting as much as the paint, and my actions. It is easily portable. There are no hidden support structures dictating size, shape, and form. Instead, there are perpetual stories of movement and adaption, with momentary pauses of repose here and there.

These stories run throughout my whole process: how I begin the work mentally and physically moving; how the materials move in response; how fragility and strength are explored; how the work is installed; how a person moves around the work; how the work is packed up, stored, unpacked, reacquainted with, each time visibly ageing and changing.

My art is incomplete, its existence is temporal. It is actively ‘growing’ old, resisting ossification, remaining curious, and accepting entropy as part of the story.