That I make jewellery, drawings and paper objects and not fun rides and buildings is a good thing, because I am building a very private world that accepts no compromises. To enfold matter into itself, to transform it in unpredictable ways comes out of a love of materials, out of a sensation of pleasure in simple qualities: colour, texture, form and their affect on my senses.
In addition to this, I always had empathy for objects. In my practice in recent years, I have become more specifically interested in collecting those awkward and sometimes ugly fragments, those hidden beauties, components that were intended for life as jewellery, but landed somewhere else along the tidelines of human activity. I try to provide them with a new opportunity, a chance to sing. It is their oily smile, their rugged gesture, the thrust of their metal, the giggle of the plastics, the wink of glass, the jungle of material emotions locked in these fragments, that I am looking to give room for expression.
This is a romantic notion, and not unaffected by the weakness of sentimentality. In contrast to this, I also make work that relies on the memory of growing up in an industrial city in Australia in the 1970’s. This work relies not only on the aesthetics of the architecture and landscape the heavy steel and ship production created, but also relates to my experience of the subcultures that eked our their existence on the boarders of that town. These were formative years, and the music of that period remains my working companion until this day.
However, my work is also a contemporary expression that something to be worn now. In the end the end this is jewellery: a phenomenon profound and moving enough in its own right.