Stone

For me, stone exists at the intersection of natural history and human imagination. It records, endures, and connects us to something far older than ourselves. As a child, my parents would say of rocks that they know everything and see everything – they have seen it all before, and will remain long after we are gone. That idea has stayed with me.

There is a presence in these forms that I find compelling.They are static, yet full of energy – shaped by time, weather and tide, carrying a quiet authority. I have come to think of them almost as a life force.

Yet it is not the stone alone that holds my attention, but the interplay between stone, water and sky. As John O’Donohue wrote: “For millions of years, an ancient conversation has continued between the chorus of the ocean and the silence of the stone.” This work explores that conversation – an evolving relationship between elements, where form, light and movement create a space of quiet intrigue.

The rocks I return to are familiar to me.They lie within walking distance of my home, and over time a kind of dialogue has emerged.They are imposing, often otherworldly in form – their strata revealing the passage of generations, like exposed memory shaped by the elements.

In certain conditions they take on an almost animate quality – something akin to sea creatures, suspended between states. There is a sense of recognition in them, as though I know them, and in some way, they know me.

These pictures reflect my way of seeing. They are not descriptions of a place, but an attempt to create a space – something that extends beyond the visible into thought, memory and feeling. A meeting point, perhaps, where landscape, time and atmosphere converge – and where the inner world quietly connects with the outer one.