As a typographer, I work with the detailed structuring of a text - working out the hierarchy and the relative emphasis to give meaning through the layout, font choice, spacing and white space. To articulate in speech is the action of putting into words an idea or feeling and this action comes with gestures, pauses and vocal and facial expression. The act of articulating a text gives written words visual cues to the ideas or feeling contained within. As an artist I see my work as an articulation of things. The choice of detail and the nuances of relative hierarchies and emphasis between things (objects, materials, sounds, images) create the idea or feeling in my work.

Space negotiations

I want this space
You’re in my space
I want you in my space
 
This space is a space
We co-exist in this space
I like to co-exist
I do not like to co-exist
 
This space has stuff. This is not my stuff. This has too much stuff. This stuff is my stuff. I have too much stuff. I want you, I do not want your stuff. I do not want to let go of your stuff.
 
I do not want to let go of my stuff.
 
I hate your stuff.
I hate my stuff.
I hate your space.
I hate my space.
 
Let’s make a space together.

Being and being empty

Being and being empty.
Being and not knowing how to be.
Being the sum of your eyeballs that want to close.
Being the sum of your eyeballs that keep on going.
Looking and processing. Processing.
Being the sum of your brain that keeps on processing when your eyeballs shut up shop for the day.
Being the brain that processes until 5am when it decides to have a change of scene and roll the shutters.
Being the body that rises in the dark and fumbles down the stairs to feed the stomach that will stop the overthinking.
Being full and being empty for the day.

I like the ordinary, the child, the unloved, the horse, the book, the repetitive, the industrial, the agricultural, the textural, the spiky, the silly, the incongruous, the sewing machine, the simple, the audacious, the transient, the ephemeral and the permanent.
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I can be so definite, precise. I barely know where to turn when I have no purpose. I am doing a thing which has no end, no purpose. Is this torture or is it happiness? I can do a thing which elicits the highest praise in the tiny circle in which it is encountered. But the thing has no life. I am encumbered, for the thing becomes my responsibility. The thing is a torture because it has not lived and I must feel I must make it live. But I cannot love the thing as I must make new things. I must put the thing aside and plan a new thing. But how does the new thing find me without an outside frame? I must have a frame to make a thing that fits. Big, colourful, philisophicaly rigourous, simple, everyday? A frame that fits. But what frame fits a things with no purpose? How do I do this thing?

Reality to representation
   to toy to plastic to scale to reduction to redaction
Horse to memory
   to shape to sinew to desire to materiality to move
Self to breath
​   to womb to growth to balance to hair to touch