Major Projects:

Joanna's Story, 2011

{Book and audio available on request}

Resting in a universe of folly, flights of fantasy and the suspension of disbelief,
experience a tale of a woman accused of the murder of her husband,
and her subsequent quest to warn us of impending earthly doom.

Dramatic, ridiculous and sinister, it is a tribute to urban folklore.
Inspired by the oral tradition of camp-fire whispered tales,
and also the retinal screenings of my own eyes -
Joanna's Story depicts a world infested with ocular leakages, ancient evils, inherent human weaknesses.

The story is told as a monologue, played inside a giant darkened tent,
as comforting as it is sinister.
The story continues within a printed book available to audiences at the exhibition.



Extract from Joanna's Story Book



I have been terribly selfish.

Oh - the greed of a child born to the wrong side, in to painting and opalescence. Imagine the magnetic force needed to wrench from time, the weight of that world forever a dusky shadow hanging from her empty uterus. Reunited in passing glimpses in the darkest of the religious paintings. No Manets for you here. Only the Rembrandts. The Van Gogh's. Dark insanities.

Some make it back, but they never live long. They are the suicides, the lost and sad ones. Already touched by the silence and reprieve of eternal inertness, forever holdings its hand in shuddered anticipation. The quiet ones. Forgotten quickly, as they never fully walked this world anyway.

The wrong side.

The painterly side.
Elliott is there, but no, he is not dead. Not yet.
He is an immigrant, a refugee to the world of time arrested. He darts amongst the stasis; weaving between long frozen figures, the subjects of brush and oil, forever frozen in the death mask imposed upon them. I fancy that they move.
In the peripheries I sense a little twinkle, a little dazzle. Silly dancing miniatures.
Angry forsaken sons.

Immigrants to the image-world are as merry-go-round horses; traversing between paintings as useless motif upon useless motif. Their spirit lives on through our projected metaphor and quest for meaning.

Paintings are so beautiful. But I feel that so is life.







Mimesis, 2010
10 minute photo-film










Extract From Film Voice-Over

In the year 2020, we let go of the camera.

The transition was less distressing than you might imagine.

Once more, suns, olfaction, two-dimensional light.

Where did these magic metal boxes and minute digital wonders disappear to?

Slowly, they vanished from every-day sight. Gathering dust in the corner of a room, they would disintegrate. As though aware of their evolutionary failure.

As so with the images. Dissolving to ruins, defeated.