This Year

“I’m an artist from Croydon with a long history of making marks in unexpected places. From childhood, when chalk and mischief went hand in hand with suspension from school for using chalk to ‘damage property’, to my post‑school years spent working in toilet showrooms, bed shops, and the Tube..

The path to painting wasn’t straight: life and addiction intervened and it took time to dismantle the walls. When it finally crumbled, I discovered that art could carry all of my experiences—good, bad, and absurd—without explanation or excuse.

My practice begins intuitively. I’ll strike a sheet of mountboard with a few pencil lines and then rotate it, searching for hidden shapes until a creature, a body part or an everyday object emerges. Layers of pastel washes, powders and spontaneous splashes build the surface; written letters are reversed so they become forms rather than legible text. London’s torn posters, street art and constant motion echo through these pieces—forms appear, dissolve and reappear as I turn the board again and again. Humour sneaks in through odd juxtapositions and playful colour.

I’m drawn to artists who revel in mark‑making and ambiguity— Twombly, Krasner, Fadojutimi,  Crews‑Chubb, Cecily Brown, Eddie Martinez—and to works that reveal themselves slowly. My own paintings are meant to be sat with and sifted through. I’d rather a viewer bring their own history to the work than be told what to see; the paintings are there to spark connections and questions. 

I’m continuing to push scale and technique while honouring the improvisational spirit that got me started. The world I come from, everyday jobs, the bustle of home and surrounding Shoreditch—still informs my sense of rhythm and resourcefulness. But I use that background as fuel. My art celebrates the act of making itself: inviting anyone who encounters it to find their own story within it.

With this recent set of work, I’ve been reflecting on the political and economic landscape around me.

Growing up in croydon and watching austerity deepen while the ultra‑rich avoid paying their share, I can’t help but let those tensions seep into the work. That’s why I work with chalk and pastel—materials that evoke public messaging, like the fleeting slogans you see on a wall before they’re washed away. It's about the right to speak up and how our words are harvested for online profit.

Elements of class frustration, government corruption and the plight of "us "may appear as obscured text fragments or recurring motifs, but they’re never meant to dictate how others should feel. Instead, they sit alongside the humour and spontaneity, inviting you to read between the lines and perhaps recognise their own place within our current moment.”​​​​