One of the key works in the exhibition, The Cloud, reflects on the hidden environmental impact of digital life. Why was that an important subject for you to address?
I am interested in what’s hidden. We don’t directly see the larger impact of diminished resources from our use of technology. We were once told that the use of technological data would help the environment by saving materials like paper – the original email, for example. But now our output of information has morphed into enormous data centres, which rely on the same environmental resources that humans need to survive.
From a creative point, I like mystery. We don’t see data – ‘The Cloud’ feels more like an idea rather than a thing, but we speak about it as if it exists as a tangible object. This lends itself to an exciting visual investigation, so I wanted to make it.
Your work touches on themes like technological waste, environmental collapse, and abuse of power. Do you see art as a form of resistance or critique?
That’s a very general question for the breadth of Art as a subject! It depends on specifics. It can be either, or both, or neither. My job is to make what’s not there, what I see in my mind. When discussing art, imagination is a word we don’t use so much anymore.
Interpreting realism is at the core of what I make. How life, or my experience of the world or politics, is always there, but too much information about intent can be a hinderance to the magic of translation with less room for interpretation.
How do you balance political messaging with leaving space for audiences to interpret the work in their own way?
I like to interpret my cultural observations to make them slightly oblique, leaving the work open. I am not interested in concrete conclusions; making is a fiction, and while politics or narrative is a tool for producing my work, it is not essential for the viewer.
I believe in the collective experience and want my work to be accessible to anyone, regardless of their visual knowledge. Should someone like the blue in a piece, I’m happy with that, but the information is in there, should a viewer want to dig.
Your sculptures combine materials like used plastics, rope, cable ties, fabric, and chains. What draws you to working with these materials?
I work from home so everything I own is in once place, therefore everything is up for grabs. It’s also an economical way to work. I don’t have an idea and go and buy everything I need for a project or sculpture. Materials inform content, meaning and form.
For example, a discarded nozzle from a tube is simply a triangle which can then suggest the shape of a beak. But the nozzle is plastic, plastic has no value, we throw so much away, so the nozzle/beak becomes a metaphor, etc…
Can you describe your process when beginning a new sculpture or installation?
The process combines formal inquiry with intuition, metaphor and a physical need to make.
Some of the works in Lossless were created specifically for Firstsite, and the exhibition almost feels like it’s reacting to the space itself. How did the gallery shape the work? Were there particular works that evolved once you saw them in the gallery?
‘The Cloud’ and ‘Mobile Hotspot’ are modular sculptures that I made onsite. I had an idea of how it would look, but once installed, it needed to change for the work to breathe. The other sculptures were intuitively installed.
One really striking part of the exhibition is the shadows created by the sculptures, which almost become artworks in themselves. Was that something you planned, or did it happen naturally as the work came together?
It happened naturally!
Is there a work in the exhibition that you feel especially connected to?
I feel connected to all the work. I made it! But if I had to pick, ‘The Glove’ was made onsite as a direct response to pre-exhibition sleepless visions I had the night before installing. It’s the most recent work, made two days before the show opened. It’s the most subconscious piece in the show.
