In 2018, as a way of recovering from an intensely difficult period in my life, I rented a small and leaky room above a tumble-down garage right on the seafront in Paekakariki, Aotearoa New Zealand.  These charcoal works, made on the back of rolls of wallpaper from the landfill-waste shop, are largely the result of those three months spent working with the sound of the ocean, the salt spray coming through the cracks in the walls and window, and my old dog asleep nearby.  

This is where I began my journey towards full-time creative practice.