Each of the faces that are looking at you belong to anyone you have ever imagined or remembered. Even after waiting a while you will find they have left your questions unanswered.

They know about the dark moments when you slow down from the race of the world and notice that they have caught up with you. They want you to remember the times when they were in your head before and how you felt.

If you do what they tell you, you will wonder what it was like to cry and scream when you felt the need. It might even cross your mind that maybe you weren’t entirely correct when you decided to grow out of that.

They don’t want to you to be sad, but they’re not going to hold you and tell you everything is alright. Neither can you hold them and make them better. They are gently mocking your certainty and fallacy and all the while lamenting their labour and pain.


Seeing a photograph taken by Robert Capa, of a child killed in a battle between China and Japan in 1938, moved me deeply and unexpectedly; that image became a catalyst that morphed the motivation for my practice into a weighty and universal questioning.

I am addressing thoughts on the human inability to accept the experience of cruelty, suffering and death that is integral to existence. Gerhard Richter writes, “When I look at how earlier periods presented themselves, this phoney happiness is not there. The pictures dwell on the pain and suffering, the perils that threaten us as human beings.” It is possible that one can take solace in the thought that, although all our hopes may be dashed at every turn whilst others have everything they ever dreamt of, we must all suffer the moment we fear most, in the end. The work is not pessimistic, it is pro-honesty and pro-reality. I see it as a way of promoting acceptance, responsibility and satisfaction.

Before making his ‘Passions’ series, Bill Viola describes his realisation that one can use a piece of art as opposed to simply appreciating it; whilst looking at paintings of the crucifixion he could see his own father dying. The forms I present are created in accordance with my memory so are distorted and thus non-representative, however, they imply the semblance of the object, image, or event that I am recalling. The various incarnations of the faces make it possible for the viewer to use which ever one(s) resonate with them, allowing them to have a personal encounter with the work.