About

Art is a dance of the unseen and seen.

I make abstract work that begins as a question rather than an image. What does an electrical set-up look like if you slow it down far enough to watch it static? What shape does a liquid hold in the half-second in metallic infinity? Each series here: Apparatus, ElectroCycle, Abstract Spaces, Infinity, Surreal Moderne, is a sustained attempt at at least one of those questions.

The instrument, and the hand

I work with generative systems the way earlier artists worked with the camera, the darkroom, or the screenprint: as an instrument with its own grain, its own resistance, its own refusals.

What the AI gives me is a base to build from, and something to argue with. Everything after that is where the time goes: composition rebuilt, colour pushed and pulled, edges redrawn, passages created that were never in the original at all, a form moved a centimetre and moved back.

Some of that work is technical, and it decides whether a piece can exist at all.

Magic Pixel Additions

A generative system produces an image at around 1200 pixels square, enough for a computer screen and nothing more. Printed at 120 centimetres, that resolves to roughly 25 dots per inch: visible squares, an image that falls apart as you walk towards it. It is why most work made by AI never leaves the computer screen it was made on.

My finished files run beyond 7000 pixels. Getting there is not a button. It means rebuilding the work at scale: rendering, correcting, redrawing detail that has to be invented rather than enlarged, adding elements by hand where the original had nothing to give, until every part of the image holds at the size it will actually be seen.

So a 120 centimetre panel is made at true print resolution, and so is a three-metre commission. The work is built to be stood in front of, and to survive being approached.

The physical work

The image is only half of it. Each piece is made physical at a scale where the surface matters as much as the composition, printed on ChromaLuxe aluminium, float-mounted on a concealed frame and ready to hang, or behind glass.

That is why every work is released as a strictly limited edition of twenty-five at each size, signed and numbered, with a certificate of authenticity recording its number, size, finish and date of production. When an edition is complete it closes permanently. Not as a sales device, but as an answer to what a practice like this ought to leave behind.

A file is not a work. A panel on a wall, in a particular room, in a particular light, is.

If there is something you would like to know about a piece, how it behaves at a given size, or which finish suits the light you have:  Get in touch.