Secure Unit

A yellow post-it note on the title page of the first dummy reads - 'The voice of a woman with ordinary embarrassing vanity, surprised by life, doing the best she can.'  Except, I thought.  Actually, it is more the voice of a woman, shocked to voicelessness, who has since then, never had any voice. A voiceless woman speaking. On behalf of one million micro fragments, a porridge of incoherent  groans and sighs.

I am a visual artist. My academic interests include post Freudian psychoanalytic theory and the nature of our subjection - to language itself, and in our relationships with one another. How does what we think we want, differ from what is actually possible? What strategies can be found to best maintain and survive the space for new possibilities, when we are so attached to what we believe are known and secure features of our lives?

I am interested in the nature of and the various ways to represent the apparently unrepresentable – the shape that appears when we think we have said everything that can be said. Secure Unit will be published in various volumes.  These will be bedside table books that suggest possibilities for managing the intra psychic dialogue, when facing profound and insistent not knowing.


When I went back to work in my Hoxton studio after many years away, it turned out that the space was the wrong shape entirely.  And too big.  I came to know what a small artist I was.  And I didn't mind.  I just needed a smaller space so that I didn't feel afraid.

Andy (2017)

Love Letters

These redacted lists are the record of time passing by way of tasks essential and futile.  The spaces between real meetings with real others.  A hedge against necessary creator loneliness and the Oedipal reality of the unrequited love scene.  The practice of disciplined sublimation of various unnamable hauntings.

Studio Home

March 2020. Stay home and work, Covid safe. In my studio upstairs my experiments continued and I made a photograph every day. I supposed we were all in this together, and I was the most productive I had ever been.  Looking back it was an opportunity for everyone. I believed I was not alone. I was not alone. And yet I was alone as usual. But I was, maybe for the first time, safely alone with others.


Not Less Than Nothing (2020)

Climate Change

The climate has changed. For the past three years, there have been no April Showers at all. In the summer of 2021, monsoon rain arrived every afternoon in London, and no one said anything. My life here remains poised for another future no one has ever really imagined. On some days I think about moving back to my first home, Australia, even though my most precious bush place, 'my bush', burned to the ground in front of my eyes over 30 months ago now, and members of the public are still forbidden to go there. On other days I take myself to visit the ancient trees that have seen more than any person or history book written, and I gratefully breathe their unconditional gift of pure oxygen.



I purchased an old fashioned but as new, pure wool blanket on Ebay, which is now hanging over the studio window and that helps. But the fossil fuel heating our environment can afford, is making little impression on the cold. I accept and sit beside the boiler downstairs. The kitchen is now my winter workspace. I have dedicated this long season to my writing, and promoting Rehearsal For Intimacy.


Studio Waiting For Spring [2023]

The Small Artist

I spent the summer sorting out my representations of thoughts, memories and efforts to affirm complex lived experience.  More publications are still in the planning stage, but this small volume fell into place with surprising ease.


The Small Artist
[photobook] 2023

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