Once upon a time (far far away) … I remember as a child drawing in my room. I have vague recollections of drawing a campfire scene and I certainly made copies of heraldic devices – for a while I was fascinated by medieval England, I think through a subscription to Look and Learn magazine. 

Life though can throw curve balls and I spent some time away from home which was not a positive experience, and I lost confidence in myself. So although I was always drawing and making things I worked on the periphery of art first as a draftsperson and then as a graphic designer (where I did at least get some satisfaction in the creative process allowed in client-driven design).

And then I found myself jobless and with the opportunity to go for it because I had run out of hiding places. Grab the goat by both horns and hang on. And I have realised that those decades of design and drawing have given me skills and life experiences, in some ways more than any art degree could ever do. 

In the 1990’s I studied drawing and painting for a few semesters. Life drawing classes at night in a hall in the city and a gathering of local artists resulting in a group exhibition in a warehouse. For a while I was in my element. It didn’t last. Family needs became more important and I think I wasn’t ready at the time anyway. But I had a taste.

I think all of this has given me a need to explore what being human means to me and to others, and to communicate this in the most ‘felt’ way that I can. To attempt to un-entangle my thoughts and feelings.

Finally doing what I have always meant to be doing.

I have chosen sculpture as my medium, at least for now. It just feels right to me, and over the last two years I have developed and built a body of work that has begun to feel homogenous. 

Something must be working because this month (March 2025) I have my first exhibition of sculpture at a contemporary art gallery – BMG Art. This is significant for me – I feel a mix of trepidation and a glowing joy. This is something that even two years ago I could not have seen happening.

So as I write this, my first show of sculpture, titled Entanglement, is on the plinths ready for opening night in two day’s time. Time to let go of the voices that told me I wasn’t good enough, and stand proud of what I have achieved. And this hasn’t happened in a vacuum; there are people who have supported me and given me the confidence to call myself an artist. To them I say thank you, and I am doing my part by making the most of whatever ideas and skills I have.

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I really like to allow chance to play a part in my work. I find work that is too well planned restrictive. It doesn’t allow for serendipity, for the element of discovery. Sometimes this can mean starting again, when what I am making just won’t come together. And that is all part of making. I do try to look at mistakes and see if they lead somewhere else. Sometimes I have picked up a ‘failed’ piece six months later and seen it in a new way, or incorporated it into something new.

Occasionally I do need to draw and draw to finesse an idea to the point where I am happy to start making. And even then chance plays a part. Seeing something ‘become’ on the bench is different from a sketch on paper.

I do not often refer to the drawings once I have started. The work talks to me. Relationships between shapes and the balance and space from all angles all matter, and are not as well represented on paper. 

Does the object ‘work’ from all angles, is it structurally sound, do the negative spaces work, is the relationship between the various elements working, could I take something away or do I need to add something, is it the right scale, does it have that mysterious integrity, does that colour work, is it saying what I want it too, does it intrigue and invite inspection? All this and more.

And this really only starts to get asked when I have something on the floor or the bench.

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