I grew up in a council house in a village on 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 and exploring the terrain free as birds. The fields seemed a world apart from the village with all its rules and in many ways to us harboured mysteries akin to ancient myths and folklore.
As an adult, I love being outdoors every bit as much as I enjoyed playing down the fields when I was young. I love walking for miles on end with no specific destination in mind, absorbing the wonderful sights and sounds of the natural environment. I love the feeling of serenity and connectedness such an elemental act of immersion can bring, contemplating everything and nothing in particular. I’m fascinated and baffled in almost equal measure by nature’s paradox: at once sublime and destructive, stardust moves in infinite secrets behind an enigma.
Aldous Huxley considered ancient Chinese landscapes as metaphors for the ‘Antipodes of the mind.’ I like the idea of creating a place devoid of ego, free from all the banality and noise of an incessant rat race marching toward its demise. I like the idea that art should seek to strip away divisive illusions, reflecting a beautiful state of Being through moments in quietude. For me, the role of art is one of understated simplicity: to connect … and the greatest contribution an artist can make in this day and age is to illuminate unity.