Using photography, my grandparent's house, and my collection of books and catalogues as sources for my imagery. I see these domestic objects and places as powerful conduits of optimism. I’m fascinated by the relentless pursuit of perfection, or the idyll that they seem to demonstrate. After the recent passing of both my grandparents I have found myself digging through the material they have left behind, finding that perfectly exemplifies this notion. I see this kind of domestic space as an unobtainable thing and I find myself drawn to the serenity of it, striving to be a part of that world, whilst also feeling threatened by it, resisting its banality. I can't help but feel that this pursuit of material success can act as a prison and that all that you collect throughout your life with the aim of improving it, eventually anchors you down. I would like my work to seem as if it is coming from the perspective of somebody who comes from this world, a kind of nuclear homemaker. I do not want to be overly critical or cynical about this imagery. I think that the viewer will project their own feelings about these spaces onto the work.
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