I am not an urban child filled with loud sounds and bright colours, my world is much more subdued, more rooted in the land; in the things we have thought rather than the things we have made.
All my work has explored my relationship to my world, and with what we mean by the word beauty – not prettiness, but real, hard beauty, the sort which can hurt; and that exploration has been made through the lenses of mythology and folklore, and the landscape itself. Recently I have sought to blur the distinction between the human form and others found in nature, be they organic or inorganic, trees or rocks, to remind us that all are equally beautiful and that, at the deepest level, all made of the same stuff.
The Green Man
For many years I have been fascinated by the ﬁgure of The Green Man: the anthropomorphic representation of the spirit of the trees and the wild wood in western minds. He represents the male aspect of the well-spring of new life, but he is not so much the consort of the goddess, as her impish companion.
He has other names, Pan, Puck, Jack in the Green, all more or less familiar on these western fringes of our continent. He turns up in folklore, medieval churches, mummers plays and Morris dances; he is there in myth and in stories; he is the spirit of regeneration, spring time, new growth.
He is both the essence of youth and very ancient.
And he is as dangerous as he is enchanting.