I'm still focusing on the relationship between humankind and nature; the urban sprawl that creeps ever outwards like an alien slime, I'm imagining a monochrome future where grass can only exist between the cracks... As a material to work with, concrete is surprisingly well behaved, wrapped in cellophane it can be bound with string around a birch stick, the bulging sacks taking on a delicate skin-like surface. It can entomb an ash and birch faggot, preserving the sticks in a process of petrification that casts a greyness over the work.
The over-all effect is bleak but the green shoots appearing in my pots should continue to thrive and remind me that nature is nothing if not tenacious; the lemon pips planted in October have finally sprouted; the pear tree stick has rooted and has a bud. Nothing has come of the date stones, apple pips and plum stones.
Poor Cow, now in its third evolution, has a round hole for the engorged innards to escape through. Restricted by its size the mass is trapped in limbo. The piece is a work in progress, produced in response to the documentary 'Cowspiracy.'