Welcome.
I'm laden down with sketchbooks, notebooks, videos, images and objects: The results of free exploration of materiality.
This website is a project I am undertaking in order to hopefully discern what is worth keeping and carrying forward with me.
Given time, here you will find digitised evidence of a body of work created over the past six years.
At some point, you may also find projects that I am currently working on.
In my authoritative opinion, most of this work is not fit for consumption. Imperceftions are often charming, but most of this work is simply ugly.
.
Forcing-out like one might extract juice from a fruit.
Unfortunately for you, dear viewer, expression may also be performed on a ripe, long-festering abscess.
What is produced by this process is abject ugliness which, if it is to be called Art, must be prefixed by the word
I often despise the results.
.
the classic beauty of Christian cathedrals, the sculptures of Michelangelo, the oil paintings of Carvaggio, the choral cantatas of Bach, the beauty and pathos of the Natural living world, yet my work does not resemble these things.
Those artworks are amongst the highest examples of Art but I am not a mimic; I am not an Architect, nor a Designer.
My work is not anti-art but I agree that it may look like such.
.
I insist that
for beauty through my work but not directly in a visual sense, rather in a conceptual sense. I am besotted by modernity and posessed by conceptions of
, of which beauty/harmony is the highest expression.
.
from the horrible conflict which characterises my work but these failures only serve to spurn me into further action.
.
Why do
in this futile endeavour rather than directly create works of beauty? It is a matter of intentionality. Beauty must come by way of my
, embracing imperfection, acepting inadequacy.
.
; Is my practice simply a form of wish-fulfillment, a means to fantasise about achieving that which cannot be achieved?
.
Is this simply narcissism? Ego and vanity?
Can I be OK with that?
Is this complete utterly shameful self-indulgence? Or am I correct in pursuing this task, to give a voice to my inner child: The little emotional artist whom I have supressed and continue to instinctively repress?