HOLDING FORM IN A DIGITAL AGE


My practice begins without certainty.

I work through automatism, allowing intuition to lead before language or logic intervene. Rather than starting with fixed outcomes, I allow thoughts, research, and lived experiences to surface through the act of making itself. This openness is essential to how I work; it creates space for the unconscious to participate, for ideas to emerge through material rather than being imposed upon it.

I work across sculpture, works on paper, and digital media, often moving between them fluidly. Clay, plaster, scans, code, and prints are not separate stages but interconnected states. Each informs the other. What begins as a gesture in the hand may later become data, a digital artefact, or a two-dimensional blueprint. I’m interested in this movement between forms, and in how meaning shifts as material is translated.

At the core of my practice is an ongoing inquiry into human connection. I’m drawn to the ways ancient belief systems, technological progress, scientific inquiry, and spiritual experience intersect. Across history, humans have always searched for ways to understand themselves - through ritual, myth, measurement, and now data. I see contemporary technology not as a break from this lineage, but as another chapter within it.

From this perspective, I explore the hidden systems that shape who we are. Some of these systems are internal: subconscious conditioning, instinct, memory, inherited behaviour. Others are external: social structures, algorithms, economic forces, and digital platforms. I’m interested in where these systems overlap, and in questioning where instinct ends and identity begins. How much of who we are is chosen, and how much is coded - biologically, culturally, or perhaps digitally?

Geometry often emerges within my work as a quiet organising force. Lines repeat, fracture, and reassemble across both physical and digital worlds. There is a dialogue between line and form, between intuition and structure. As I move between my hands and software, and back again, a rhythm develops -one that mirrors the oscillation between thought and material, presence and abstraction. The finished works often hold a sense of balance and restraint, inviting pause rather than spectacle.

Sculpture, for me, is a grounding force. It anchors the body in space at a time when so much of our experience is mediated through screens. Yet I don’t see the physical and digital as opposing states. Instead, I’m interested in the space between them - where our physical bodies coexist with digital avatars, profiles, and data traces. Sculpture becomes a way to negotiate that tension, commanding presence across both tangible and virtual realms.

The printed digital “DNA blueprints” that accompany each sculpture are central to this exploration. They symbolise the reality that we are no longer separate from our digital identities. Our physical and digital selves are increasingly intertwined, each shaping the other in subtle but profound ways. Online representations influence how we are perceived, how we behave, and how we understand ourselves, while our physical experiences feed back into digital spaces through images, data, and language.

These prints also reflect a dimensional shift. As three-dimensional beings, we now perform large parts of our lives two-dimensionally - through screens, interfaces, and flattened representations. The movement of my sculptures between 3D and 2D mirrors this condition. It asks what is lost, gained, or transformed in translation, and how far this process might go.

Throughout my practice, I return to questions of value and permanence. What do we give weight to now - the physical object or its digital counterpart? What endures: the material form, the data record, or the experience held in memory? I don’t offer answers so much as spaces for reflection.

The work invites viewers to consider their own position within these shifting realities, and to notice how deeply entangled their lives already are with systems both seen and unseen.

Ultimately, my practice is about attention. About slowing down enough to recognise the structures shaping us, and the quiet moments where agency still exists. Through making, I attempt to hold complexity gently - to create works that are grounded, open, and reflective of the world we are learning to inhabit.

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