My story

I was born in 1977 and am currently 48 years old. I was born with a congenital heart condition and underwent major open-heart surgery at the age of three. The operation was successful, and I have been fortunate to maintain relatively good health since. Growing up with an awareness of physical vulnerability shaped my relationship with life early on, fostering attentiveness, caution, and a deep respect for time, energy, and inner balance.

I struggled to engage with formal education and institutional systems in conventional ways. Rather than following prescribed structures, I found myself learning independently for much of my life, guided by curiosity and intuition rather than curricula. I taught myself across a wide range of creative and conceptual disciplines — from visual design and image-making to philosophical inquiry — always drawn more strongly to understanding how things work than to fulfilling external requirements.

Creativity became not just an interest but an environment: a space in which I could think, experiment, and develop without the pressures of social performance, hierarchy, or working toward narrowly defined outcomes. I was interested in the creative industries for their imaginative potential, not for conventional ideas of success, networking, or status. Where others saw careers, I saw systems of thought, material processes, and ways of engaging with life.

From an early age, I was drawn to making — producing material work, images, and ideas, often for myself and those close to me. This impulse continued into adulthood, not as a pursuit of recognition, but as a way of orienting myself in the world. Over time, it became clear that my strengths lay not in adapting myself to institutional structures, but in developing an independent, internally coherent way of working.

My current practice centres on imagination, philosophy, visual art, and writing, shaped by a lifelong habit of self-directed learning and observation. This site exists as a personal archive: a place to gather that work and to document an ongoing process of exploration rather than a finished identity or fixed destination.

I became increasingly aware that the conventional routes expected of people of my demographic within British society — particularly forms of labour defined by speed, hierarchy, conformity, and economic output — were not neutral pathways, but pressures that would likely have made me unwell. I experienced this directly in various forms of employment, where I could not sustain myself without significant cost to my health and inner stability.

I never wished to remain unemployed, nor did I reject work itself. What I could not accept was the expectation to take anyrole simply to survive, regardless of its impact on my mental, emotional, or physical wellbeing. For someone oriented toward imagination, depth, and inner vision, there were few options that felt safe, sustainable, or honest. Corporate logic, profit-driven thinking, and social performance were not compatible with how I function or create.

Over time, I recognised a pattern shared by many people like myself: the demand to suppress one’s nature in exchange for survival. Rather than comply at the expense of my health, I chose to follow my creative direction and inner world, even when that path carried uncertainty. This decision was not driven by idealism alone, but by necessity — by the understanding that remaining intact mattered more than appearing productive within systems that could not accommodate me.

For many years I immersed myself in photography, exploring and mastering a wide range of practices — from boxing and live sports photography to studio work, weddings, and social events. I committed fully to learning the craft, adapting to different environments, and producing work of genuine quality. Yet despite this breadth of experience, I remained in the same position, unable to translate skill and dedication into stability or independence.

I gradually came to understand that the obstacle was not the work itself, but the surrounding economy of self-promotion. I did not know how to sell myself, nor did I feel able to adopt the dominant, competitive, or predatory behaviours often required to survive within capitalist creative industries. What I produced felt complete in itself — the work was the gift — and I struggled to treat it as leverage or bait.

I did not know how to hunt for work, how to push myself forward aggressively, or how to be constantly visible without losing dignity. I did not want to beg, perform desperation, or erode politeness and respect in order to secure opportunities. Rather than compromise those values, I chose to retain my dignity, even when that meant remaining unsupported.

Over time, it became clear that I lacked not talent or commitment, but the specific social and psychological skills required to convert creativity into self-employment within competitive systems. Accepting this allowed me to stop measuring myself against standards that were never aligned with how I function.

I now focus on existing attentively and creating honestly, without coercion or performance. This work — and this site — is an expression of that choice. If others recognise themselves in it, or come to understand something of my way of seeing, that in itself feels like purpose.