My practise appears to fall into a few categories: site-specific, figurative paint, abstract paint and illuminated sculpture.
It's difficult to explain this diversity, perhaps I have a short attention span, however, I'm stuck with it.
When I consider a site-specific commission, I attempt to understand the client as deeply as possible. Their identity, background, philosophy, aims and, above all, use of the site in question. The other thing on my mind is the visceral response that I have to the site. It's colour, form, lighting and architectural language. I say visceral because, unlike the considerations of who the client is, one shouldn't think too much about a response to an architectural space.
Then it's a question of what comes to mind as a solution. Recently I've used concrete, foam, steel, stone, plastic, fibreglass; a bewildering array, really. But this is all a part of, to my mind, genuine site-specific art.
The starting point for this body of work is my response to people in public parks. There is an enormous relaxation that occurs to the form when just lying in the sun in a park. All the motivations that inform the way someone holds themselves fall away and the body, whilst still being in a public space, assumes a posture of deeply private calm. I've painted these forms as nudes and exaggerated their proportions to get to the purest rendering of form possible. I want them to be true to the fact of the canvas and it's proportions. I want them to transcend social or psychological context and give nothing away. Just like lying on the grass in the park.
The first abstracts that I painted were in 1993 and fall into two categories. Both methods in some way relate to my reading of quantum physics. This is a perilous field for an artist to start wandering about in, but it really fascinates and excites me. One style of painting has an object in a ground. It's like an entity in an energy field. The second style is an excerpt of flowing energy. I was thinking of string theory and what it would be like to try and depict it visually.
Nothing quite like placing a lamp into a form to show up any indiscretions in its fabrication. Apart from the pleasure of tackling the technical difficulties inherent in an illuminated sculpture, I like the no-man's-land between projected and reflected light. A viewer can read the form from both light sources and, to my thinking, draw pleasure from the ambiguity therein.