When I began working with newspapers in my practice, my initial motivation was environmental awareness. I wanted to recycle newspapers and create something green, aligning my work with sustainability. From the start, I believed that artists should avoid producing unnecessary objects. There is already so much material in the world, and as creatives, we have the responsibility to repurpose and be environmentally conscious.
As my practice evolved, I began exploring aerosol acrylic painting. While I considered switching to airbrush acrylics—a more sustainable option—it became clear that the system was far more expensive and less practical for my process. This realisation led me to confront the difficult truth that sustainability in art often comes at a higher financial cost. Also, the speed and flexibility of spray cans allowed me to react instinctively to colours, something that would have been more time-consuming with airbrush.
Another challenge lies in the art market itself. I’ve noticed that most galleries prioritise marketability over sustainability. Their focus is on artworks that suit the demands of collectors and the market, rather than those that align with ecological concerns. This awareness influenced my decision to work with debris and building materials.
By choosing these raw and repurposed materials, I not only addressed environmental sustainability but also positioned my practice against the polished, glossy aesthetics of commercialised art. I wanted my work to remain grounded, visceral, and emotionally raw—a reflection of flesh and blood, rather than perfection.
This approach has also shaped my understanding of my role within the global cultural context. I’ve realised that much of the contemporary art world caters to an audience already engaged with critical thinking - curators, art lovers, and fellow artists. However, those who might benefit most from art’s transformative power - such as individuals who support harmful ideologies or engage in destructive behaviours - are often excluded from these spaces. They don’t visit galleries or museums, and art doesn’t reach them.
This insight has led me to focus on creating artworks that communicate on a visceral, emotional level while also reaching new audiences who wouldn’t typically engage with art. For instance, I’m working on a project in collaboration with a local restaurant, where I plan to curate works by regional artists.
This initiative not only supports local talent but also introduces art into unconventional spaces, breaking the boundary of the white cube gallery. In our region, food culture dominates, often overshadowing cultural life. By integrating art into this environment, I hope to draw in people who might not otherwise engage with it.
Another exciting project involves synaesthesia and multi-sensory experiences. I’m collaborating with a chef to create art objects that go beyond the visual, incorporating taste, touch, sound, and smell. This fusion of food and art offers a unique way to engage audiences and create lasting impressions.
In addition, I am working on an Art History course series that I want to present in my region as well, perhaps focusing on other local artists with workshops and critique groups.
Lastly, my experience with the Temporary Permanence installation reinforced my belief in the importance of public engagement. Watching how the public interacted with the work added new layers of meaning and communication. This has inspired me to explore more public and participatory projects, which I believe hold immense potential for deeper connections and broader impact.
Through these reflections, I see my practice as a way to balance sustainability, inclusivity, and emotional resonance, while continuously challenging the boundaries of art and its role in society.
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