Carving stone is an exciting challenge both physically and mentally, and that perhaps is why I find it so addictive. I carve by hand where possible, which feels like a privilege in a technicised world, because it allows an intimate relationship with the stone and a pace of working that feels natural to hand and mind.
I particularly love British limestones, from the softer Bath stones to harder Portland and Blue Kilkenny, for their gentle hues and compatibility with our landscapes and light. I’m ever in awe that they were formed beneath the sea over 150 million years ago; as I smooth and polish the stone, tiny shells, fossils and corals reveal themselves, and sometimes translucent bands of calcite and quartz crystals appear that glint in the sun.
Each sculpture begins with the seed of an idea that I capture in quick sketches, and then I draw, draw, draw, searching for balance of shape, tautness of line, revising and refining the form until it feels “right”. It’s a curiously abstract process even though my work is figurative. Then I’m ready to pick up my chisel and start carving.
When casting in bronze I can make forms with an extended vocabulary, not confined to the block. I make the original form by a hybrid method of carving hard plaster and adding armature as I go. It is then cast at the foundry, and I patinate the surface myself in the traditional way with blowtorch and solutions of metal nitrates. It’s a wonderful alchemical dance with flame and brush that gives each sculpture its unique blend of colour and visual texture.
My theme of birds continues as I pare back new simple forms. They express the spiritual nature I perceive in all animals and, though earthly, I want them to fly free, separate and whole and almost-angel.
Animal and human forms from the art of Africa, pre-Columbian Mexico, and the ancient Mediterranean world fill my sketchbooks. I look too at Modern British and European sculpture, interested in how many of these artists were also inspired by other cultures and civilisations. My sketchbooks are a reservoir of shapes and ideas that shift and merge and evolve into my own forms, through a process that often feels subconscious, but endlessly fascinating.
