Early handwritten records embodied a quality of care - dusting them was like removing a film of dirt obscuring something essential that has been forgotten.

I am interested in the implications of a collective forgetfulness - a subtle evolutionary shift from feathers, fur and dirt to shrink-wrap plastic.

I often dream of myself mining; like mining any truly creative journey involves an act of faith - and a moment of madness - compelling us to reach beyond that which is known.

The key terms for my practice are installation, video, site-specific, collaborative and interactive; the location of my work has included museum, home, factory, shop-window, trains and galleries. My activity is underpinned by writing, including an extensive online dream journal and also essays that intersect with my work.

I choose materials and locations that have been overlooked: at the Shipley Museum & Gallery, Gateshead, I uncovered a forgotten basement room of 1930’s office ephemera that had slipped through the cracks of curatorial change; and renovated a derelict museum caretaker’s residence with reference to its original colour scheme as remembered by the caretaker’s son. Selected items were installed in the windowless, tomblike former residence (see The Room is Spacious and Bright) in linen wrapped parcels to be opened by visitors. In a diary they made notes on their finds, echoing the handwritten records uncovered.

I undertake activities slowly fading from collective memory: unravelling discarded knitwear (The Unraveller), plucking a duck (Ducky, Fifi) and skinning a rabbit (Bunny). Solo activities sometimes multiply - at the Waygood Gallery, Newcastle, convivial groups unravelled jumpers and conversation together in a participatory two-week installation.

The process of engaging often yields personal insights for those who participate, through which the work shifts to an experience of discovery and revelation. I recognise the ability to ‘connect’ as an essential material of my work: colourful, playful, curious and engaging it can be entered into by both arts and non-specialist audiences.

Whether unravelling, unpacking, skinning or plucking - these physical actions are meditations on the interior of the self. What does it feel like to skin a rabbit to eat? How am I transformed as I reshape this thing before me? Whilst there is a metaphysical quality to my work, it is rooted in biographical details of mundane objects. From pencil to pixel in a museum archive, or feather to shrink-wrap plastic on a kitchen worktop - within such matter is manifest the energy of seismic shifts in recent social history.

seeking that which is hidden
bringing to light
relationship
unraveller as root?
from the centre out
the end is the beginning, it is also the middle
it is the point of stillness away from which everything travels
it is this
the body as a vehicle
experience as a vehicle
what is the point where the audience enters into this process?
a desire to share in the process as well as the products
transformation through process
repeated actions lead to enlightenment
me this and the space inbetween
me you the space in between
uncovering something essential that has been forgotten
fluid relationships, change, flow, shift, process
diving down into the history
what needs to be recovered?
what is essential?
what can we let go of?
what is no longer needed?
undoing
unpicking
taking apart
digging
mining