‘The territory no longer precedes the map, nor survives it. Henceforth, it is the map that precedes the territory.’
My artistic practice, focused on print, drawing, and photography, takes three directions: walking coastal landscapes; climate; and the expression of time and memory through sedimentary layers. Sediment is rich with associations of historical time, of material being weathered, dispersed and settling into new layers; it’s a form of moving across the land – not on foot but propelled by water and wind.
The accumulation of sediment, particularly ancient sedimentary rock, has an obvious temporal component. To develop the richness of that idea, I’m experimenting with the freezing of natural objects in water to halt the process of decay. The resultant photopolymer prints and photographs have an eerie, haunting quality – they’re images of frozen time, whilst simultaneously referencing the fragility of the planet’s glaciers.
My interest in sedimentary layering has led me to the idea of the fresco. Which forms the top layer – the plaster or the image? Or are they the same thing? I’m experimenting with the creation of plaster-prints in which the surface of the plaster draws the ink into itself. And, in a reverse experiment, I’m working on a series of photo-lithographs of imagined footpaths, on overlapping sheets of translucent Japanese paper. These five-layer imaginary maps embed the idea that the eye must travel through them in order to see what’s really there and where it lies.