'Mutability' 2017 (collage, tissue and gold ink on canvas, 160 x 60cm) and 'Carcass' (collaged index cards, paper and gold ink, 30 x 20 x 20cm) exhibited in 'Drawing the Line' (with Morfydd Ransom-Hall) at Camden Image Gallery, London, 2018
In 'Mutability' I use layers of medical imagery and my own medical scans and X-rays to process my experience of having emergency lumbar fusion surgery in December 2015. The tissue acts as a skin over the top and the gold lines stitch everything back together in a kind of kintsugi style. 'Carcass' is an ongoing work made of all the paperwork that I had accumulated up to that point in my life - an inaccessible archive of data I had collected about myself and projects I had worked on. Everything is in there, everything is safe, but you can only read the top layer. It will be finished when it gets to 163cm long (my height). The titles are a homage to Helen Chadwick, whose print 'Anatoli' I saw in hospital before going under the anaesthetic, and whose work has inspired me since the 1980s.
In 'Mutability' I use layers of medical imagery and my own medical scans and X-rays to process my experience of having emergency lumbar fusion surgery in December 2015. The tissue acts as a skin over the top and the gold lines stitch everything back together in a kind of kintsugi style. 'Carcass' is an ongoing work made of all the paperwork that I had accumulated up to that point in my life - an inaccessible archive of data I had collected about myself and projects I had worked on. Everything is in there, everything is safe, but you can only read the top layer. It will be finished when it gets to 163cm long (my height). The titles are a homage to Helen Chadwick, whose print 'Anatoli' I saw in hospital before going under the anaesthetic, and whose work has inspired me since the 1980s.
'Millstone Grit (The Broken Column)' 2018 (acrylic paint and marker pen on Fabriano paper, 250 x 150cm) exhibited in 'Drawing the Line' at Camden Image Gallery, London, 2018
I made this large-scale version of Frida Kahlo's 'The Broken Column' when I could no longer draw accurately at small scale, due to nerve compression in my neck. The landscape behind me is based on the Yorkshire Tea packaging's idealised version of my home county.
Millstone grit is the local stone. The break in the column is where my own spine was broken.
I made this large-scale version of Frida Kahlo's 'The Broken Column' when I could no longer draw accurately at small scale, due to nerve compression in my neck. The landscape behind me is based on the Yorkshire Tea packaging's idealised version of my home county.
Millstone grit is the local stone. The break in the column is where my own spine was broken.
'Red Flag (Tree of Hope Stand Firm)' 2018 (acrylic paint and marker pen on Fabriano paper, 250 x 150cm) exhibited in 'Drawing the Line' at Camden Image Gallery, London, 2018
This Frida Kahlo tribute shows me face down on the operating table having my spine bolted back together. The landscape is another version of Yorkshire, with slag heaps instead of Mexican mountains and coal beneath the earth. I am wearing mill workers clothing and wooden dancing clogs. My red flag is partly a symbol of my misdiagnosed cauda equina syndrome, and partly a nod to my Communist grandfather (killed in a mining accident). My other hand holds my 'grabber', an invaluable tool during my recovery from surgery.
This Frida Kahlo tribute shows me face down on the operating table having my spine bolted back together. The landscape is another version of Yorkshire, with slag heaps instead of Mexican mountains and coal beneath the earth. I am wearing mill workers clothing and wooden dancing clogs. My red flag is partly a symbol of my misdiagnosed cauda equina syndrome, and partly a nod to my Communist grandfather (killed in a mining accident). My other hand holds my 'grabber', an invaluable tool during my recovery from surgery.
'...les neiges d'antan?' 2016 (acrylic resin, aluminium, screws, bolts, Naproxen capsules, wooden lolly sticks, 30 x 20 x 15cm) exhibited in 'A Grand Day Out' with tenthirty at The Crypt Gallery, London 2016 (photo by Martin Sturgess)
I worked with resin a lot during my MA, but it is not a very eco-friendly medium, so this is the last resin piece I made. One of those rare pieces where you have an idea in your head and then it turns out exactly like that in real life. The Naproxen capsules lost their colour, and then disintegrated inside the resin, so the middle lolly no longer exists except as a toxic mess. There's a metaphor in there somewhere. The photograph is a work of art in its own right, thank you Martin. The accompanying sound piece was played at random intervals during the exhibition, based on an ice cream van's chime I heard drifting across the Kent countryside on a windy summer day a very long time ago.
I worked with resin a lot during my MA, but it is not a very eco-friendly medium, so this is the last resin piece I made. One of those rare pieces where you have an idea in your head and then it turns out exactly like that in real life. The Naproxen capsules lost their colour, and then disintegrated inside the resin, so the middle lolly no longer exists except as a toxic mess. There's a metaphor in there somewhere. The photograph is a work of art in its own right, thank you Martin. The accompanying sound piece was played at random intervals during the exhibition, based on an ice cream van's chime I heard drifting across the Kent countryside on a windy summer day a very long time ago.
'Blue Ices (Post-fusion Sketch)' 2016 (Sharpie on lining paper, 60 x 80cm framed) exhibited in 'Drawing the Line' at Camden Image Gallery, London, 2018
This was the second drawing I made on my return to the studio in April 2016, getting my feelings about a traumatic, yet ultimately positive, experience out of my head and into the world. It also became a 3D work, when I was mobile enough to return to casting on the fire escape outside my London flat, the only outdoor space I could use at the time.
This was the second drawing I made on my return to the studio in April 2016, getting my feelings about a traumatic, yet ultimately positive, experience out of my head and into the world. It also became a 3D work, when I was mobile enough to return to casting on the fire escape outside my London flat, the only outdoor space I could use at the time.
'Blue Dome (Post-fusion Sketch)' 2016 (oilbar on lining paper, 80 x 60 cm framed) exhibited in 'Drawing the Line' at Camden Image Gallery, London 2018
The first drawing I made when I got back to my studio four months after my emergency lumbar fusion surgery in December 2015. The shape is one I used for a series of resin sculptures in 2014 and 2015; it's also a bit brain-like. This was drawing at its purest, straight onto the paper with what seemed like no conscious effort. I couldn't have drawn it better if I'd tried.
The first drawing I made when I got back to my studio four months after my emergency lumbar fusion surgery in December 2015. The shape is one I used for a series of resin sculptures in 2014 and 2015; it's also a bit brain-like. This was drawing at its purest, straight onto the paper with what seemed like no conscious effort. I couldn't have drawn it better if I'd tried.