Once upon a time, there was a boy woken by wailing sirens and blue lights flashing over faces and forms. Beneath him lay the carcass of a forlorn getaway car lying mangled on its roof. The shadows of desperate souls sprinted into the night as uniformed figures darted after them. The boy stood still, absorbing a disorderly deluge beneath him as if he were floating overhead. Part nightmare, part adventure, a new world had emerged.

This is where my practice begins—in the liminal space between nostalgia and configuration, between what we build or feel. I’m drawn to traces left behind: lives pressed into the tarmac and the establishment of meaning and memory. My work is cultivated by quiet consideration for those surviving within systems built for speed, productivity, and control.

My practice explores how human fragility contends with systems built for speed and survival. Through sculpture, assemblage, and montage, I navigate the tension between nostalgic comfort and hypermodern pressure, where what we value becomes interchangeable between frameworks of complexity and simplification. I approach sculpture not only as a material practice, but as a way of shaping—through editing, assembling, collaboration, or stewardship—recognising that what’s left still, matters.

I see sculpture not only as a material practice but also as a way of shaping—through editing, assembling, or stewardship—an act of remembering that the unresolved still, matters.