Creating is never a place of clarity or distillation but a squishing together of disparate elements; queerness, class, found junk, glitter, words, politics, poetry and rage. It’s this fizzy alchemy that I look for in my work, and this can as easily come from picking through rubbish and day dreaming as it can thinking about capitalism or critical theory. Indeed, I’ve long ago given up treating my ‘place’ of work as a studio but rather a junk yard of dirt and discoveries, half abandoned ideas and things, a swirling whirlpool that occasionally rests before moving on.
I actively use my diagnosis of ADHD as a methodology, seeking (neuro)-diverse connections, dancing between the banal and the tragic, the satirical and political, the overlooked and the under-represented. I move between painting, sculpture, word art, performance and installation at a greedy pace but also with urgency, negotiating my way through a world that I feel alienated from and often broken hearted by.
I’m at my most dangerous when there is a smile on my face.