‘For every image of the past that is not recognised by the present as one of its own concerns threatens to disappear irretrievably.’ (Walter Benjamin)

I make paintings which have their origins in my experience of landscape. When walking, I come across (or do I seek out?) traces and decaying imprints of war. Abandoned structures lie half buried throughout the land, often strangely juxtaposed with the quotidian of our lives. These fragmented structures have lost their original purpose yet they have survived. In whole or in part, their visible presence speaks to us of their reason for being and, at once, our enjoyment of the landscape – notions of beauty and pastoral – is punctured by these motifs of aggression and terror.

In the manner of an amateur archaeologist, I approach these decaying structures as ruins – apprehending them as a tourist visiting Classical Rome, or a Romantic exploring the abbey ruins. Set against this, I mine the images of contemporary war that fill our screens and newspapers. Buildings, bombed and shelled, their inhabitants killed, maimed and displaced – these images are all too familiar.

My studio practice is an inquiry into the language of the ruin in the 21st century. Images of ruin and rubble and the consequences of war enter our homes in real time – reframing our cultural references. Far from evoking ideas of beauty and harmony, my encounters with the ruins of the last century, and the images of today, are a constant reminder of the continuing violence and destruction that is the contemporary world. These are the themes that I explore in my paintings.

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