“Drawing is a mechanism for exploration as much as a tool of representation”

Tania Kovats 1

Dail Behennah Drawing for Unconformity Jo Hounsome Photography2

I have always felt intimidated by the idea of drawing but at last this project has made me realise that, although I was always disappointed by my observational drawings, there are other ways of drawing and they are valid and enjoyable.

As a geographer I am comfortable with maps, diagrams and annotation. My sketches are a way of capturing an idea and solving problems before I start making. I often draw as a way of thinking and then I never look at that drawing again. People have commented that my sketchbooks are very organised but the truth is that I am so tentative that I draw on scraps of paper, receipts, tickets and the edges of newspapers. Occasionally I have to sort through all of these in search of lost inspiration and then I scan them, print them out, often at a different scale, and glue them into the book.

The structure which I have focussed on for this project requires me to draw up a detailed plan so that I know where to score and fold the strips before plaiting them together. The initial drawings are the most pleasurable part of the process and are where the exciting “What if?” questions are followed. Light lines and erasing allow refinements and changes although always within the constraints of the logic of the structure.

IMG_4500 cropped adj

A change in the size of one block, for example as the result of splitting a strip, can trigger adjustments throughout the piece and once accepted it is rarely possible to return to the original rhythm. Scale is also important as what appears to be simple at the top can become increasingly complex further down the plan.  I make scores of drawings before making the decision to undertake a large piece of work.

I decided to excavate my structure to see what I could discover about it and this process has been liberating. When drawing a map one usually begins by tracing essential elements from a base map and then adding selected information on top of that so I have used this method in the project. Starting with a base plan beneath tracing paper I have found and drawn lines, blocks, planes, dots, hexagons and triangles. It has been more satisfying to abstract lines from a pre-existing plan rather than to imagine lines and then draw them because I am discovering something rather than being driven purely by aesthetics.


Some drawings have led to a deeper understanding of the structure, others have not. As soon as I stop thinking about a textile which must be made and focus on the drawing itself I am freed from the structural logic and can play. I have tried to remain open and question what I am seeing. Richard Fortey has said “curiosity is the enemy of certainty”3 and curiosity also feeds the imagination.


My experiments have included different surfaces (tracing paper, Tyvek, glass, gesso), different tools and media (knives, pens, markers, graphite, glue, ink, thread), layering and folding. Some have ‘simply’ been pencil on paper.

Before I started this project my drawings were private. Now, no longer apologetic, I have enjoyed making so many that I can’t decide which ones to exhibit.


  1. Quotation by Tania Kovats in Drawing Water, Edinburgh, Fruitmarket Gallery 2014, page 11.
  2. Plan for Unconformity photographed by Jo Hounsome Photography.
  3. Quotation by Richard Fortey, The Wood for the Trees, London, Collins 2017, page 3.



It is with regret that we announce the cancellation of the exhibition which was due to take place in Cardiff in September 2018. We are still very committed to the project which now has the potential to take a different form. Watch this space!

Grey squares


In the previous post Dail talked about her response to Matthew Harris’s challenge to scale up/ speed-up by filling a three metre square space within a relatively short period of time. Like Dail my studio will not accommodate a work on this scale so once she had finished her experiments the large board she had been working on crossed the corridor from her studio to mine.

As I have mentioned before one of my main concerns throughout this project is to consider notions of chance and control, exploring how altering the balance between these two factors effects my perceptions of what I am creating and the final output.

I decided to build upon an idea I had begun to explore in a previous session when I had worked with paper to create an assemblage of individual units. I started by using a home-made cola nib on a long stick to mark up a number of sheets of grey paper with a slightly wobbly inked grid. Because of the nature of the cola nib the ink flow was unpredictable causing uneven widths to the grid lines.


I then spent a number of hours cutting up this gridded paper into individual pieces. Because of the method used to mark up the grid the pieces were much more random than if I’d drawn them freehand with a more controllable drawing tool. Each piece has a very pleasing inked edge of variable thickness.


Once I had a huge pile of these not so square squares I had to think about how much I could build chance into the way I assembled them. There were many complicated rules I could have applied to force me not to take aesthetic decisions but I decided in the end, partly because of the scale of the piece and because the exercise was also about working quickly, that I would set simple rules about which edges came together and take the element of aesthetic judgement out of the process by closing my eyes. At each stage of the assembly the rules had to change slightly but I tried very hard to resist the temptation to interfere with the chance element even if I found the way the pieces were coming together displeasing.  Continuing with my chosen method I used up all the cut paper squares. In the end I didn’t have enough to completely cover the surface of the board but I enjoyed the way the construction petered out into white space.


What became evident as the piece grew was the relationship between the arrangement of the grey paper squares with their inked edges and the negative spaces that were formed by this arrangement. Once the piece was complete I was able start to investigate these negative spaces. As a way of ‘finding’ more and smaller negative spaces I made a couple of smaller grey paper constructions in the same way as the larger piece and used these on top of the large piece, moving them around until interesting negative space shapes revealed themselves.


The scaling up (even if not on the scale Matthew had originally suggested) was a challenge and the large format combined with time restrictions prevented me from ‘tidying things up’ too much. Working with the paper was relatively quick and allowed me to make discoveries I wouldn’t make if I was working more slowly


So many other ideas presented themselves as I was working and I tried to consciously tune into this attentive contemplation, allowing myself to stay alert to the unexpected that might happen along the way or to a pleasing but unintended arrangement of elements that might occur as I worked.



Filling space


During our mentoring session with Matthew Harris he suggested that we cover a space that was 3m square.

Returning to the studio it was immediately apparent that I don’t have a space big enough! I could move all the desks, and work on the floor, but that would deny me the opportunity to look at the work at eye level, which I always find interesting as it can give the impression of monumentality. I compromised and decided to cover a board I already had which measures 115 x 144 cm, less than half the size suggested, but still a challenge.

I have been thinking about my 3 dimensional plaited structure and how it might be broken down into its elements:  planes, edges and lines. I began drawing over a line on a plan, ignoring the logic of the structure and meandering where I pleased.


I cut ¼ inch wide strips of black paper and scored and folded them according to this new plan. Changes of direction were cut and glued and when dropped on the board the lines became 3 dimensional, standing on points or pulling the line over. I enjoyed the calligraphic nature of the thick and thin lines this produced.


I drew some of the individual lines, first by observation, and then with a very broad nib to produce alternate thick and thin lines, which were different to the observed lines.

Then I tried making lines which were only folded and lines which were knotted to change direction, but neither of these seemed as pleasing.


The folded lines fell over onto their sides, and the knotted lines, although random, seemed uglier. They were prone to spiralling if all knots were made in the same direction, and the nodes created by the pentagonal knots interrupted the fluidity. I also made one very long line but this was less lively, and I became much more involved in trying to arrange it to lie nicely rather than letting chance have its way.


I came back to the first and simplest solution, traced more lines from the same base plan and then dropped each line from arms length onto the big board and saw how they fell.

I have learned from this exercise that if I am working intuitively, I react and I don’t analyse what is happening. My instincts lead me down similar, well-worn paths each time. It is hard to break out of this way of working and to look at things in a different way.

By thinking and making notes I have reinforced knowledge I already had but have never articulated.

Lines have depth as well as width, weight and direction.

 A constructed line has two sides, texture and colour.

 The form of a line is determined by its material and its scale.

A folded line may relax and the angles change.

A line has a beginning and an end.

A line has a tipping point.

A drawn line has speed, direction and intention.

My lines arrive and are dropped, not placed.

The lines are different to the intention.



Nothing is new. As I was writing this post someone mentioned Duchamp’s dropped strings ‘Three Standard Stoppages’. More food for thought.






Our mentoring session with Matthew Harris



‘Art is a life of small moves’ – Morton Feldman (written on Matthew’s studio wall)


In January Dail and I were lucky enough to have a mentoring session with the wonderful and insightful textile artist Matthew Harris in his studio near Stroud. I’ve worked with Matthew before and thought he would be a great person to provide us with an outsider’s view on the work we’ve done to date. Our wide-ranging discussion was so engrossing that I only took a few brief notes, mostly in the form of a series of short statements and key words:

Resolved / unresolved

Paths not taken

Explicit / implicit

Feeling one’s way towards something

Ordering thinking – making pathways

Expanding and contracting

Order / chaos



Applied pieces and negative spaces

Points of intersection and divergence

Points of dialogue

Layers of surface become structure

Expansive tasks – contracted methods


Tidy / Sloppy

It’s about finding out:  Experimenting > Observing > Responding  …….. repeat

Finished / unfinished

Challenge preconceptions


At the end of the session Matthew suggested a couple of exercises for us to do over the following weeks – more details of these in our next blog post.

Dail Behennah: Thinking about the Surface

Blue dish

For in.dialogue I have decided to focus on the paper structure which I developed in my last exhibition, Fieldwork, and which continues to fascinate and challenge me.

In October Jess and I had the wonderful experience of a mark making workshop run by Jilly Morris for just the two of us. It was incredible; fast paced, innovative, informative and above all fun. Jilly is an amazing teacher.

I have only recently begun working with paper and don’t know the first thing about mark making as a form of expression. As a geographer I am used to drawing fine black lines, symbols and diagrams, not covering a large sheet of paper with marks made by a Norwegian fly swat dipped in ink. To music.


It has been 3 months since that day and I have had time to reflect on how I can loosen up and bring a more interesting and subtle surface to my work. I have considered the quality of paper and the various ways in which I can alter it, and the tools I can use to add something to it.

In order to test the things I learned I have made numerous samples, using ink, waxed crayon and graphite on tracing paper.The translucence and crispness of the surface appealed to me, but when a beautifully marked sheet is cut up and plaited it looks horrible, like a garment knitted with space-dyed wool.

As a result of this research process I have had to think hard about what is the most important thing for me – the surface or the structure? I have come to the conclusion that at the moment it is the structure and that any changes I make to the paper will have to be very subtle. I want the play of light and shadow to capture the viewer’s attention from a distance and for the surface to reward inspection at close quarters.

For the two big pieces I have made to date, ‘Spreading from the West’ and ‘Terrain’, I used a white paper embossed with a cord pattern. I scribbled on the sheets with a fat graphite pencil before weaving, to emphasise the lines of the embossing, which in turn demonstrates the direction of each strip woven into the textile.

Dail Behennah (15th October 2014)

A consequence of the day playing and doing exercises is that I am thinking more deeply and noticing my reactions to the processes I am using. I use pencils graded from 1B to 6B, scribbling with the first to come to my hand and discarding each one as the points wear down to the wood. When I run out of pencils I sharpen them all again. I have become attuned to the various grades of hardness and there are differences in texture just after the pencil has been sharpened, and as the exposed lead wears down. A graphite stick doesn’t need sharpening but it makes a different kind of mark; broader and with less variation. It also smudges and rubs off the surface during plaiting.

My arm always moves in the same direction, a diagonal sweep from lower left to upper right, drawing from the shoulder and pivoting at the elbow. Changes can be made by adjusting the angle of the paper on the desk, rather than disrupting the natural movement of my hand and arm.   I try to make this about my body and not about my brain and it is a useful way to loosen up after the concentration and physical strain of plaiting. At the beginning of the day this is an enjoyable and free process, but by the end of the day the marks I make are jerky as I become tired and bored. If I can’t even scribble satisfactorily then it is time to go home.


The scribbled marks catch the light and, although they are random, some sections please me more than others. Sometimes this is where my hand was taken off the paper or at the end of an arc of the pencil. This arbitrary and intuitive marking contrasts with the next step which is carefully drafted and follows the rules demanded by the plaited structure.


A pleasing conjunction to a woman who likes words is that:

graphite comes from the Greek graphein ‘to write’

scribble is the diminutive form scribillare of the Latin scribere  ‘to write’

plait comes from Old French pleit ‘a fold’, from the Latin plicare ‘to fold’.

text and textile both come from the Latin texere ‘to weave’






Why Do We Make?

The topic of our most recent conversation was ‘Why Do We Make?’

We began by writing short descriptions of how we approach making:




DAIL           I usually begin by going to materials I know and trying to make the beginning thought. Sometimes I can’t get any further than that. Often I make maquettes in card and if it seems worth proceeding I draw detailed plans and repeat, refine and vary until I have something that deserves to be made. I have to be certain that it will be worth investing the time. Once I have begun making then there is not much chance to change my mind, but I note ideas and solutions to problems in the margins of the plans. This means that I can progress by leaps and bounds, often making the 6th piece in a series and missing out the intervening steps. Frequently the first work which contained the original idea doesn’t get exhibited, but later and better pieces could not arise without making the first one. This way of working is slow and incremental and in immersion new things arise.

The repetitious nature of making stills the unruly part of my mind allowing the more interesting and thoughtful part to take over. Questions arise during making which make me think and connect things that are already in my head but which had been forgotten. In the evenings I research these ideas and thus gain a deeper understanding, not only of my work but of what I can find out about the wider world and myself. The research is usually triggered by the making, rather than being the starting point for a body of work, but what I find out is fed into the next piece so a theme arises which underpins all the pieces in a series. This gives me pleasure and keeps me interested during repetitive tasks. It is not necessary for the audience to know all these things in order to appreciate my work but I am always happy to share what I have found out.




JESS              I work in series with each group of pieces nearly always developing out of observations I have made about previous work. As I work with the same materials pretty much all of the time I don’t really need to consider this too much but I do try out new enamelling techniques from time to time and I choose a technique for both its aesthetic qualities and sometimes for practical reasons (such as weight). Once I have an idea of what qualities I want to explore (say edges) I will do lots of quick, rough sketches and then choose one or two to develop further on paper. I then usually make paper models to test the scale of the pieces and to begin to work out construction methods etc. During the making process I try and stay alert to unexpected things that might happen along the way or to a pleasing but unintended arrangement of elements. Sometimes this changes the piece I am working on but more often the observation is filed away to be explored in subsequent pieces. My work isn’t really based on any existing thing but what happens is that once the work is made I start to see images/ideas that reflect my work back to me and these go into my mental memory bank, a weird tangled mess that can’t really be picked apart.



We discussed that fact that it would be easy just to say that we make because we enjoy the act of making but is this really true? Making is often boring, repetitive, dirty and painful. At times it is frustrating and it is rarely financially rewarding. Most of the time making is not ‘fun’ despite the myth to the contrary being perpetuated on many social media feeds.

So why do we do it?

Jess asked a hypothetical question. ‘If we were offered a magical power which could make perfecly made work appear on our benches would we take it?’ Both of us answered no, which reinforced that there is something that can be found only through the act of making.

For both of us the slowness of the making process can be problematic but also has benefits as it allows for plenty of thinking time. The making encourages thinking which leads to the next piece of work and without making as the catalyst we both worried that our ideas might dry up. Dail described how she enjoys the unexpected richness of the research which is triggered by making.

We both respond to the qualities of materials as we work with them and this embodied knowledge also feeds the work in a particular way. We also both get a great deal of pleasure out of problem solving on all sorts of levels.

We talked about the idea that for both of us there is nothing as simple as direct inspiration; rather we both tend to notice things that relate to, or confirm and reinforce, the ideas we are currently working on. For instance, Jess’s Field series is not inspired by fields from the air but she can clearly see that the connections are there and constantly notices the particular shapes used in this series in her environment.

We both draw upon a vast store of visual reference built up over many years; much of this is just in our heads. While Jess has always taken photos to remind her of inspiration, Dail is a new convert to the camera phone but in the past used scrapbooks to store her reference material. Both of us subconsciously or consciously draw on this store whenever we are thinking about new ideas but it is rarely a single image that sparks an idea. For Jess an image or series of images will provide a thought. For example an image of a darker shape in the fabric of a museum case lining where something has been removed will make her think about absence. Sometimes it takes many years for these strands of thought to feed into her work.

We also discussed the question ‘What’s the point of making when you know exactly what the outcome will be?’

Although we design our pieces carefully and make with a high level of skill we can never imagine exactly how a piece will turn out. Scale, weight, materials and intention play a part and the finished object always brings surprises. Curiosity about the finished object overcomes the boredom.

And if we didn’t make, what would we do all day?

In conclusion we return to the quote by Gauss with which we ended our last post:

‘It is not knowledge, but the act of learning, not possession but the act of getting there, which grants the greatest enjoyment.’












Leaving up the Scaffolding


It’s interesting to consider what contributes to our personal internal matrix of ideas and observations. The other day I was half listening to the radio and was struck by the phrase ‘an architect doesn’t leave up the scaffolding when he has built a building‘. This was spoken by Marcus de Sautoy*, paraphrasing the mathematician Carl Friedrich Gauss who was explaining his reluctance to clarify the ideas underpinning his work, partly because he believed that to do so might ruin the magic. I mentioned this phrase to Dail with the observation that what we are doing with this project could be considered to be ‘leaving up the scaffolding’.

The idea resonates with us both. Usually we work quietly and only exhibit our work when it’s complete, without the ‘scaffolding’, but for In-Dialogue we have structured the project in such a way as to challenge ourselves to make explicit and public what is normally implicit and private.

We are talking to each other about making and about our ideas, putting our thoughts into words and asking questions, both helpful exercises, but also challenging because this leaves us open to potential criticism and doubt. It is no longer sufficient to work intuitively; we have to try and explain and justify the choices we are making.

Whilst trying to find the original quotation Dail found another observation made by Gauss :

‘It is not knowledge, but the act of learning, not possession but the act of getting there, which grants the greatest enjoyment.’

That will be the subject of our next Blog Post.

*The programme which triggered this post may be downloaded as a podcast here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b09gbnfj



Lines & Blocks – Two Day Project

FullSizeRender 4


First Day: Lines

After discussions about chance and control, surface and structure, and parts of a whole, we each devised an exercise to explore these topics.

We would:

  • make parts
  • make rules
  • judge the points at which we were pleased or unhappy with the outcome
  • ask questions

On both days we chose to work with white materials so that we wouldn’t be distracted by a choice of colour.

On a chilly day we booked the large gallery space at Centrespace where we work, closed the shutters to deter viewers and set to work.

The first exercise related to structure and triangulation, lines and shadows.

White paper straws were cut up into varying lengths and we each threw dice to determine what length of straw we should pick. They were then threaded on a long wire to form a line of triangles. The aim was to work at speed and not try to guess the outcome.

The first half hour went well, but problems arose; for example you can’t have a triangle made of two 1 inch lengths and one 6 inch length. We began discarding straws, making 4 sided shapes, making up new rules, halving the odds by blocking some numbers on the dice and many other tricks to get to the outcome we expected. Immediately the lines of shapes became more contrived and we got bored and more critical. We realised that sometimes you have to work through the boredom before something interesting happens.

Good things to emerge were that the shadows cast by the white lines were beautiful and often more interesting than the objects themselves;

a mass of the shapes tumbled together was appealing;

the structures could be made on a larger scale.

One surprising thing was that Jess doesn’t like acute angles. Over the months since we did this her aversion to triangles and points has become more apparent, whereas I like lines and sharp angles.

We both decided that the physical outcome of the exercise wasn’t worth the time we had put into it. This is a problem that we both come across in our practice. At what point do we each decide to invest time and materials in making a finished piece of work? And does all spontaneity disappear at that point?

Second Day: Blocks

The second project was devised by Jess and we each made some plaster blocks.



I have never cast anything before and was excited by the possibilities of adding this technique to my practice. I like the matte material, the making process and the anticipation when releasing the object from the mould. I like the shapes and the shadows they cast.

We each took a pile and began to arrange them to investigate the relationships between them, the spaces and the shadows. I found this exercise much harder and it was difficult to come up with coherent thoughts and strategies. My arrangements were purely instinctive and I couldn’t articulate why some were pleasing and others were not. I felt that I never really fully participated in this project and this might have been helped if we had devised a series of rules to initiate the process of play as well as for the casting of the blocks. We were working separately and talked less, partly because Jess was really absorbed, and because I was tired. My lack of stamina began to show and in future I think we should work together for just one day at a time so that I have time to reflect before embarking on a new part of the project.

I took lots of photographs of my blocks but was over-critical and the element of play was lacking. The ideas that emerged were that I don’t like the very regular shapes to which I can give a name such as square, cube, rhombus or diamond. I do like the blocks which have different length sides and those with angled sides so that shadows are cast beneath as well as around them. I felt that the blocks were much nicer when displayed as a collection of individuals, rather than thinking of them as a coherent group. Looked at from a low angle they looked like standing stones. However, my blocks never reached the potential that they had offered when sitting in their box.


Jessica :

Our plan for both days was to make initial decisions about the elements we would be using and then use rules for their arrangement as a way of preventing us from over-controlling this part of the process. As Dail says, this led to some practical issues. However, I do think it’s a valid method for developing work as allows unexpected and uncontrolled things to happen.

I found it difficult not to have in mind all the time how might I translate what I was doing into my usual materials & techniques and I had to consciously switch off these thoughts. What I wanted to do over the two days was to discover ways of working that were different from how I usually approach my work. It didn’t really matter about the end product. By making myself a little uncomfortable I was able to ‘notice’ and question my decision making process and the habits I find myself falling in to.


One of the exercises I did during the second day was with a thin slab of white plaster that I had prepared a few days earlier. I wanted to allow some chance into the way the slab was broken up, and to create individual pieces that were not too regular. To this end I roughly scored a loose grid on the back of the slab and repeatedly dropped the slab on the floor, allowing it to gradually break up into increasingly smaller sections. These were then randomly rearranged.  I made a photographic record of each stage of the process.


Unexpected small things that happen in the making can be very important and can spark a whole new series of ideas. For instance, I was very taken with a mark created in my plaster slab by the tape that I had used to hold the mould together.


The by-product of the process is often particularly interesting, for instance the traces of plaster on the gallery floor

Photographing the work was not just about recording the object but continuing to develop ideas through framing, cropping and layering.



Thoughts on collaboration:

We need to be careful that one person does not dominate or if they are leading the exercise that this is clearly agreed beforehand. But also, that we both remain open to exploring ideas suggested by the other even if (or especially if) this takes us to a place where we feel uncomfortable.

Although we both have a very similar aesthetic we work in quite different ways and it is important to the project that we acknowledge this and don’t allow it to cause problems.

This activity reinforced our decision to work separately but in parallel on our own ideas rather than choosing a common theme – it felt somehow that a common theme would always be more appropriate to one of us than to the other and one or other of us would therefore feel compromised. It would also prevent one of us from following an unexpected path that had opened up through conversation and that we were eager to explore, even if the other had found it irrelevant or less interesting. This project will be about celebrating the differences between our practices as well as the similarities.

In the end the exercises and the conversations are what we both value most.



Jessica Turrell – Chance and control/ Control and chance

Jessica Turrell 'City' Brooch 1 copyCity no. 2  2016      vitreous enamel on silver, oxidized silver

I trained as a jeweller and my practice focuses mostly (but not exclusively) on wearable objects. My work often involves the use of vitreous enamel on etched metal to create surfaces produced through repetitive mark-making processes. I am interested in my own response to this repetition, and in the subtle variations that come with the micro-decisions I make as I work. The miniaturized format of the jewellery form allows me to explore my ideas on an intimate scale and I enjoy making jewellery that rewards close attention with an intricate and detailed surface. I have deliberately rejected enamel’s more conventional characteristics of shine and colour in favour of a more nuanced and ambiguous surface, and I have developed unique ways of working that give the jewellery a particular tactile delicacy that encourages touch. 

My most recent work explores the relationships between pairs and groups of separate pieces, considering how they intersect and come together to define edges, margins, and negative space.

I have become increasingly interested in where my work sits on the continuum between chance and control and my own response to this sweet spot within the production of the mark-making that forms my surfaces. My hope is that the project will allow me to explore this in depth, as a way of challenging myself to take more risks and be more playful within my making but also in order to think more deeply about what I do and why I do it.

Jessica Turrell field arrangement jpg copy

Field Arrangement 2014  

13 brooches, vitreous enamel on etched copper, oxidized silver

Dail Behennah – Structure & Surface

Dail Behennah (15th October 2014)

Fracture 2014     white willow, brass rods; constructed  h 28 x w38 x d38

My career to date has focused on structure. I began as a basketmaker, concerned with building self- supporting three dimensional forms using basketry and textile techniques. Sculptural forms comprising layered willow grids became my trademark. These allowed light to flow over and through the grids, changing as the viewer moved around the object. Shadows were an important and integral part of the work and the changing light throughout the day animated the pieces.

I now wish to continue my exploration of structure and the ways in which light hits a surface and changes the viewer’s perception of an object.

spreading 300 dpi at A4.jpgSpreading From the West & White Column 2014      paper, graphite. plaited

My most recent work has been made in paper, using a traditional basketry technique which appears new because the paper has been pleated before being plaited. The resulting surface is faceted and shadows are thus cast within the structure. Variations in pleating, width of strips and surface treatment of the paper all contribute to an interesting textured and sculpted surface. Thus my work is moving from an emphasis on structure, the willow grids, to an emphasis on surface. After 25 years of making I am confident in my aesthetic choices and excited by exploration of a new technique and materials.

For this exhibition I wish to investigate how the structure of a surface affects both the absorption and reflection of light, and I wish to make the light an integral part of the work.

I am excited by the prospect of in-depth conversations with Jessica and I hope that new ideas will find expression in the works I make for the exhibition.