I grew up in a struggling northern industrial town during Britain's turbulent transition to a post-industrial economy. Amid the soot-blackened terraced houses, dilapidated mills, and rapidly vanishing chimney stacks, were the valleys and hills of magnificent beauty. I was part of the last generation of children allowed to roam these streets and the valleys freely. To paddle in babbling brooks, build dens in sporadic woodlands — a freedom to be creative and curious. My evolving curiosity played a significant role in my teenage years. Mass media, especially music, movies, and computers, shaped my inspirations. I learned to breakdance, which gave me an appreciation for choreographed movement. Using the Commodore 64, I taught myself how to apply mathematics to create visual patterns and sounds. At seventeen, I enrolled in an arts foundation course to pursue these interests. Unfortunately, my parents would not support my attendance, turning what could have been a short journey into an Odyssey.

Not to blame them — for many working-class people, life is something that is done to you, and without wealth, one is at the mercy of the wind. Growing up in a socially divided Britain, my parents were never invited to participate in cultural activities, so from their perspective, a career in the arts was a pipe dream. However, this odyssey led me to learn numerous skills, and always, in the back of my mind, I knew I would find a way to realize my dreams. Hardship, though, is not a particularly kind teacher, leaving scars that cannot be seen or understood. There's nothing romantic in suffering; much more can be learned from kindness.

Thankfully, times change, and like abandoned factories that suddenly pulsed with acid house music, transformations seemed to be happening everywhere. There was hope. I was fortunate, and at 26 years old, I had a chance encounter with a performance artist, Andrew Bailey, at a friend's house over a high garden fence — so high that I couldn't see him. He suggested I go to Leipzig and work for an artist named Jim Whiting. I did, and I arrived in an environment where I could thrive. Shared knowledge helped me develop skills and led me to where I am today. These formative experiences inspired me to explore themes of transformation and time through my art.

I'm investigating ways to expand cinematic language by using sculpture as a medium for communicating experimental animation. In this process, I combine computational devices with robotic and mechanical parts to create mandala-inspired kinetic sculptures. I see these sculptures as a medium - an essential step in realizing what I believe is the primary focus: the ephemeral animations or choreographies that emerge when these sculptures are in motion. Currently, my work is delving into more conceptual ideas related to time and perception. My recent projects utilize unconventional slow frame rates and imagery deconstruction to produce what I define as ambient animation.