Things collected and gathered to me are all at hand on shelves and ledges and tables - objects take on significance - books, African masks and carvings, flotsam and jetsam, pebbles tumbled from the waves, evidence of corrosion and relentless change picked from this transient life.

Every so often I rush off to France to stay with friends, grateful to get away from it all. It is, however, a place I love dearly - studios and workshops become an extension of the artist’s personality and mine is also my home - a place that creaks and whispers with secrets as I go about my rituals and habits like some old alchemist.