Artist Statement​

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My practice begins in the counter-field of our age of productivity: in the shadow of uselessness and irresponsibility, where a different kind of human breath becomes audible. A childhood memory—secretly stealing “useless” lollipops behind my dentist parents’ backs—opened a corridor to desire, achievement, and guilt, and to those strange moments when guilt itself becomes pleasure. Rather than approaching work through grand discourse, I proceed from small, embodied sensations—minor frictions, sticky sweetness on a tongue, a crawling posture. I re-stage these contradictions as visual situations.

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Material is a syntax in my work. Sugar and jelly, fake jewels, toys and baby bottles migrate into painting, print, and installation to build scenes where seduction and aversion overlap. Candy colours and visceral abstractions create intoxicating pictures that oscillate between intimacy and uncanniness. Increasingly, I am drawn to the posture of the body—gestures of supplication and resilience, leanness and abundance—through which I try to record the hollow and its pulse. For instance, in Adults must only crawl at dawn, a lowered, crawling body at daybreak overlaps with a daylight routine that hides pain under a duvet and breaks bread with a smile.

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After graduating from the Royal College of Art, I lived through a long outward pause: from August 2019 to April 2025, the births of my three children and the care—and loss—of close family members did not interrupt but re-shaped my practice. The shadow of uselessness is no longer a place to secretly eat candy; it has become a shelter for actors burdened by tightly scripted roles.

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Through glittering surfaces, over-sweet stickiness, and the faint shadow of bones under light, I study the tactics of survival we breathe through today. I hope the residue of these encounters lingers—in the viewer’s body and memory—as a rhythm for balance.