My inspiration comes from collections, both those of museums which cross cultural, historical and natural science boundaries, and those of the individual, whether the discerning Victorian lepidopterist, the eccentric 'collectaholic' of memorabilia, or merely the accumulated bricolage of everyday life.
We all have a primal urge to collect. Historically a 'cabinet room' symbolised the owner’s power, education and wealth and his collection of curiosities was constantly rearranged to inspire awe and wonder. Today, with increased mobility, technology and globalisation, the world has shrunk and we are able to place objects within a familiar context; their power to seduce and amaze is diminished.
As the curator of my collection, I seek an exactitude in my work enforced by meticulous cataloguing systems, accession numbers and codes. However the process of taxonomy is fluid, as each artefact is positioned according to its multiplicity of characteristics, new sub-classes are created, connections overlap and curious juxtapositions occur. To the uninformed the codes are an unfathomable language; the artefact becomes decontextualised and the creative charge is rekindled.
In exploring different methods of preservation and repair, the modest, mundane, imperfect or impermanent is celebrated. The notions of value and protection are accentuated using techniques including the Japanese craft of Kintsugi, the Egyptian process of mummification or the art of taxidermy and connections between times, materials and culture are developed to provoke a sense of unexpected fascination the worlds of 'artificialia' and 'naturalia'.
In essence, to make something that is simultaneously small and intimate as well as grand, something beautiful as well as rough, something serious yet absurd.