I found myself digging about in the paper bin at Christ’s today. I felt like a fox. I was looking for old newspapers to search for images in. I filter through the newspaper most days to find something, often not aware what i am looking for, which could stimulate a new ingredient for a future piece. It might be a standing figure who could turn into a protagonist, a group of footballers jumping for a corner who could become one figures sequential move through space or a snap from the holiday section which could translate into a painting laced with melancholy and nostalgia. The search tries to not be preconceived.

 The bin provides a fertile compost heap of potential. The newspaper is a cocophany of noise. Melodrama, hyperbole and scaremongering are par for the course in a system which reflects our wider Western psyche with it’s proliferation of imagery. We are literally drowning in visual stimulus, yet we become dead to it, drunk and hungover on the drama of it all.

There seems to be something enjoyable about rediscovering those moments and images which were to be lost to the bin. Holding them, elevating them, painting them, celebrating them and putting them through a juicer to transform them.