I found collaging – or collaging found me – in 2020. Immediately, after finishing my first cowboy collage, I felt a tingling of creative satisfaction and happy hours passed while wielding scalpel and glue. I couldn't wait to get back to a piece. The possibilities excited me and still do. That one collage could take hours, incorporating hundreds of elements – and fail – while two elemental images, unrelated outside of the collage's world, could be combined and make a beautiful kind of sense, this sense fascinates me. Increasingly I'm finding new forms to work within but ultimately the challenge is to keep this energy of discovery alive.
I'm an aesthetic animal and collages offer an ecstatic aesthetic puzzle to solve. As near as possible I work with found images. To do this I search for material where what's on offer is eclectic and limited: bric-a-brac shops, charity book corners; finding my books to cut, rip and repurpose off shelves of the unwanted. Ordinarily I'm a sceptic, but when collaging I've an unflappable faith in a strange combination of synchronicity and reincarnation. There are few things more satisfying to me than resurrecting images, bringing pictures to life out of what's been left for dead.