‘If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite.’ ~ William Blake
dub: a copy of.
spectrum: the entire range.
return to the fields
about the journey…
I grew up in a council house in the village of Christow, east Dartmoor, overlooking a beautiful valley we simply referred to as the fields where we would spend many an hour building tree houses, attempting ninja moves, swimming in rivers and exploring the terrain free as birds. The fields seemed a world apart from the village, in all its gossip and assumption, and in many ways to us harboured mysteries akin to ancient myths and folklore. I was creative as a child; I particularly enjoyed drawing cartoons and was very good at theatre. My parents also like to remind me about the time I ‘Jackson Pollocked’ their bedroom with mum’s nail varnish! The village was largely middle class and well-to-do but there was a minority assortment of low-earning ‘riff-raff’, which I suppose my family fell into (and probably why my accent confuses a lot of people because I don’t sound like a Devonshire dumpling who says ‘ooh-arr’). Dad was a jobbing builder and mum worked mostly as a school secretary around other jobs cleaning and babysitting. It was Thatcher’s ’80s so tough times for those in the low-income bracket living in rural areas but, although my parents struggled a lot financially (divorcing when I was quite young), Dartmoor was an amazing place to have spent a childhood. The wonderful feeling of freedom amid nature experienced by my brother, friends and I remain, I think, the single biggest influence behind my work.
I was an anxious and rebellious indie-kid coming of age in the ’90s via underachieving at a small-town comprehensive (beaten up and kicked out of home, aged 16, during my GCSEs but that’s another story!) and working various part-time jobs to earn money that was mostly spent on t-shirts, weed and cassettes. Early on it was all things indie and grunge – from Senseless Things, Ride, the Cure, Nirvana and L7 (and outrageous shows like The Word) to the dub and spaced-out electronica of Mad Professor, Dub Warriors and the Orb. I remember discovering the golden era of hip-hop from A Tribe Called Quest and the Beastie Boys to Public Enemy and the punkish gangtsa rap from groups like NWA. It was BMX, skateboards, Super Nes and Street Fighter 2 in an era of Strictly Jungle and the Edge mixtapes, late night cruising country back roads of Devon (usually to a free party), high as kites and trippin’ on shrooms, bopping to the drum n bass riddims of Hype, Nicky Blackmarket, Micky Finn, Darren Jay and more! Most of all, I’ll never forget the first time I heard Demon’s Theme on LTJ Bukem’s Logical Progression compilation; it blew my mind and got me into DJing! There was Bristol’s trip hop and d’n’b scene from Massive Attack to Roni Size’s Full Cycle Records. There was the time we got loved-up to see Leftfield’s Paul Daley do a set at Plymouth Warehouse (with Fabio playing jazzy drum n bass in the back room) and my first crowd surf was at a Prodigy gig on speed. We had music with energy, diversity and spirit that made it genuinely exciting to be young.
For a while, I felt alienated from both parents before a process of reconciliation, which took longer with my father (I felt unable to see him for three years). An itinerant teen on benefits, via Kingsteignton, Ogwell and Newton Abbot, I moved to Exeter (into various house shares) to attend college where I encountered the barminess of Brit Art while visiting the now infamous Sensation exhibition at the Saatchi Gallery. I recall being particularly drawn to the paintings of Chris Ofili and Fiona Rae. It was around this time that I realised the dream was to be an artist (specifically an abstract painter). The creative culture of the ’90s – in all its pioneering, self-sufficient optimism, eccentricity and romance – spoke to a young, directionless failure who, through youthful naivety, believed the 21st century would play host to an even greater spirit of indie!
After college I lived rent-free in a quaint village pub in Doddiscombsleigh while working in the bar and kitchen, deferred a place at uni, saved some money and travelled Australia and New Zealand. I attained a bachelor’s from the Nottingham Trent University and later got my MA at Central Saint Martins, London (also making various trips around Europe whenever I could, visiting numerous galleries and museums). The former I spent most of my time in record shops, spinning a mixture of dub and intelligent drum n bass on Nottingham’s Fly FM and various bars and clubs, disinterested in my arty-farty contemporaries promulgating postmodernism’s arid worldview. I had lots of fun working part-time in a small bistro run by an old rocker and in my second year I undertook a collaborative project with Nottingham’s Royal Society for the Blind, which got me short-listed for an Ambassadorial Scholarship. At the time I was hoping to study a master’s in California, but sadly it wasn’t meant to be. Yet still I dreamed and ultimately headed to London where, unfortunately, I discovered the ‘other story’ would inspire a deep sense of anxiety and melancholy within.
A darkness began to take hold while I was an undergrad in Nottingham. At first, I put it down to feelings of anger towards the world the more its workings became apparent. However, I would discover it to be more existential – an elusive melancholy fused with a return of anxiety far more debilitating than what I had experienced in my teens; a feeling I can only describe as a terrifying sensation of the infinite. By the time I got to London I was considerably depressed and introverted, which did not make good bedfellows for one aiming to succeed in the arts! It was a very alienating experience, and I contemplated suicide many times (still do). Medication and therapy were not much help, although eventually I was able to overcome the worst of the anxiety mainly by exposing myself to it, in this case wide open spaces as I had developed agoraphobia, which was exhausting. I began counselling while studying my master’s at Saint Martins, which dredged up a lot of past experiences that were tough to reconcile with my aims in the present. While all of this was going on I had to try to live: pay rent, get a job, pay off my student debts etc. Needless to say, networking the art scene in a place like London, while constantly dragging around a huge weight inside my head, was near impossible. In short, I realised I was living in a world that I felt wholly disconnected from, disinterested in, and have no place in – a view only compounded by indifference and repeated rejection (such is the arts). Much like a teen booted out of home, I realised I was completely alone. For whatever reason, the only light amid all this was being creative and I suppose it would be such glimmer with a sense of self-reliance that gradually evolved into dub spectrum.
The ensuing experimental, melancholic and disenchanted years embodied a process of ‘unlearning’ after graduating from university, which eventually led to a return to my roots. I ran a couple of studios in Exeter that I mostly supported through an assortment of jobs including night shifts in a care home for adults with autism and learning disabilities to working for mental health home treatment teams and teaching English at a language school. The single-minded determination to be an abstract painter gradually evolved into working with the figure (with a particular interest in Matisse), which led to a specific interest in landscapes after reading Eastern philosophy and the work of Jung in tandem with the aforementioned exposure to open spaces. I came to see landscapes as a metaphor expressing the terrifying beauty of the infinite: the awe and dread of Rudolf Otto’s mysterium tremendum that laid the foundation for Jung’s idea of the numinous. I took part in solo and group exhibitions in both the UK and abroad. However, I found the creative process itself is what intrigues me: gallery shows seemed rather dull, so I eventually ended up situating work in different locations – be it cities from Plymouth, Bristol, London and Paris to rural areas around Devon (in hindsight, I realise this formed as much a part of my confrontation with the infinite as an artistic engagement with it). Painting would eventually fade into the background as writing became the primary focus of my creative endeavours, culminating in my first novel written in various cafes, followed by a two-month road trip through Morocco, Spain and Portugal. I then wrote my first book of poetry while living on Dartmoor, mountain-biking through its glorious woodland, before moving again.
I became fascinated with the folk tradition and coastal landscapes of Cornwall after moving from Dunsford to Falmouth in 2020 to study boatbuilding. No idea why I wanted to pursue this – I’ve sailed maybe a handful of times in my life! I think I was drawn to boats as an object and liked the idea of working with them sculpturally. I quickly discovered I’m no mariner and switched to studying a personal training qualification supporting myself through a mixture of jobs in cafes, pubs, psychiatric wards and a homeless hostel. I completed the course despite fracturing my ankle after taking up surf-skating, which was shortly followed by the death of my grandfather (amid the lockdown insanity). On my fourth attempt, I passed my driving test in Camborne. I then headed back east to Devon, relocating to Exmouth, where I attained an exercise referral qualification while working as an Activities Coordinator for a mental health charity before going to work for the NHS at a crisis house helping people experiencing psychological distress. From Exmouth, I moved to the village of Tedburn St. Mary where I developed an interest in lens-based media with a particular connection to trees and the river. Now in Teignmouth, I focus primarily on writing and photography.
All the above, coupled with my love of underground dance music, helped coin the term dub spectrum, which is a DIY ethos that sees creativity as a counterbalance to the cold and corporatised rationalism that seems to be making the world less artistic.
When I say we have become ‘less artistic’, I don’t necessarily mean less creative (although I do think that culturally things have gotten incredibly stupid!). I am referring to the act of looking at the world, which is a fundamental act of the artist. Increasingly, we view the world through the lens of paradigms and ideology largely mediated via the confines of Big Tech, which a significant number of artists readily conform to, unfortunately. What do I mean by looking at the world? I work in that perennial political football known as the NHS. Both sides of the ideological divide appear to agree that it’s failing even if their ‘solutions’ vary. The question is why is it failing? The Left seems to think it’s due to lack of funds and advocates more investment through taxation; there is some validity to this. The Right, in contrast, appear to believe it’s failing because it’s the NHS, which is a circular argument. However, if you look at the world then the problem becomes immediately apparent: I am old enough to remember when a can of coke was a rare treat and sweets were certainly not something you had every day! As kids, we were outside playing much of the time and therefore active. Simply look at how lifestyles have changed: we eat too much and move too little (across all ages!). We are less connected to nature and more engrossed in the hyper-reality of a disembodied, online world. Obesity and diabetes are on the rise, while people are increasingly experiencing poor mental health (often as a result of too much screen time). All of this puts extra burden on the NHS. Although it could certainly do with more funding, the Left’s socialist perspective will not solve the problem as it has failed to diagnose the cause in the first place. The Right, however, seems to think that privatisation is the way to go; in other words, solving the problem with more capitalism – the very thing instrumental in creating the problem to begin with! I don’t profess to know what the solution is but that’s not the point. What I am trying to address is the artistic act of looking, which is free of paradigms and ideology that was best summed up by Blake: ‘I must create a system or be enslaved by another man’s; I will not reason and compare: my business is to create.’
dub spectrum therefore embodies an artistic re-engagement with the world in its immediacy: love, joy, beauty, anger, sorrow; all can be as much a reflection of what has been projected within as a ‘view’ of what is outside. Experience interconnects an abyss that is palpable. As a physical entity, humans are mostly empty space; I find emptiness to be a curious subject of extremes: I wonder which is more authentic – a crisis of meaning articulated by Sartre, or is it a beautiful enigma observed by ancient Eastern mystics? I wonder how such opposites form a whole.
2026
dub spectrum
unityofkana(at)gmail(dot)com