I studied design at Greenwich University and our main project focused on Deptford, using the development of Convoys Wharf and the surrounding area as the starter for a conversation about what it means to grow up in an area that has been cherry picked for gentrification.
Deptford has been mauled, tossed around between developers, local authorities and money men overseas and this continues.
Back then, I started to think about what it means to grow up in a poor area of south-east London, bordering the upper middle class Greenwich.
Now the cranes have got higher, the building sites have multiplied, Tideway has arrived and Deptford could become the new Peckham.
Years later, I began to volunteer at the John Evelyn Community Garden and during Covid, the garden became a haven to escape. Whilst digging and planting, I began to think again about what local really means in Deptford. How do people connect? What does this area mean to them? Do they think about the history on their doorstep? Is it important? What brings them together and what drives them apart?
During the weeks of my residency in the garden, leading up to Deptford X, I was finding it difficult to concentrate on these questions. Questions are all very well, but I felt as if the work shouldn’t be restricted to a literal meaning.
I am a maker and materials are primary in the process. I also trained as a landscape designer and my ambition is to concentrate on art in the landscape.
So, when I was in the garden, my natural response was to let the materials and the landscape speak to me. I was experimenting in the workshop with molten metal and my time in the garden and the surrounding area influenced my process. I began to think of creatures ('Crawl'), hiding in the undergrowth, perhaps a metaphor for all the hiding we have all done over the last year and a half. I picked up a plastic tree hiding in the undergrowth and gave it a new lease of life. I left a few of these pieces in the garden to see the reactions of passersby. I was delighted that the now pink and orange tree had become 'The Magic Tree' to a young boy who was so excited when he saw it he jumped up and down! Another child was confused but equally excited when he saw 'The Horseshoe Trail' and exclaimed 'Mummy, its a one legged horse!'. These responses are priceless and make it all worthwhile. i can say what I like about what the pieces mean but what's really important is the individual response of the viewer.
I wanted to leave a light footprint as far as materials were concerned and was determined to use as much recycled material as possible and I’ve managed to keep it at about 95%.
The most interesting outcome from this time is the way the work began to flow when I just responded to the materials and the landscape without thinking too hard.
Deptford has been mauled, tossed around between developers, local authorities and money men overseas and this continues.
Back then, I started to think about what it means to grow up in a poor area of south-east London, bordering the upper middle class Greenwich.
Now the cranes have got higher, the building sites have multiplied, Tideway has arrived and Deptford could become the new Peckham.
Years later, I began to volunteer at the John Evelyn Community Garden and during Covid, the garden became a haven to escape. Whilst digging and planting, I began to think again about what local really means in Deptford. How do people connect? What does this area mean to them? Do they think about the history on their doorstep? Is it important? What brings them together and what drives them apart?
During the weeks of my residency in the garden, leading up to Deptford X, I was finding it difficult to concentrate on these questions. Questions are all very well, but I felt as if the work shouldn’t be restricted to a literal meaning.
I am a maker and materials are primary in the process. I also trained as a landscape designer and my ambition is to concentrate on art in the landscape.
So, when I was in the garden, my natural response was to let the materials and the landscape speak to me. I was experimenting in the workshop with molten metal and my time in the garden and the surrounding area influenced my process. I began to think of creatures ('Crawl'), hiding in the undergrowth, perhaps a metaphor for all the hiding we have all done over the last year and a half. I picked up a plastic tree hiding in the undergrowth and gave it a new lease of life. I left a few of these pieces in the garden to see the reactions of passersby. I was delighted that the now pink and orange tree had become 'The Magic Tree' to a young boy who was so excited when he saw it he jumped up and down! Another child was confused but equally excited when he saw 'The Horseshoe Trail' and exclaimed 'Mummy, its a one legged horse!'. These responses are priceless and make it all worthwhile. i can say what I like about what the pieces mean but what's really important is the individual response of the viewer.
I wanted to leave a light footprint as far as materials were concerned and was determined to use as much recycled material as possible and I’ve managed to keep it at about 95%.
The most interesting outcome from this time is the way the work began to flow when I just responded to the materials and the landscape without thinking too hard.