Nature doesn’t need us. She doesn’t need you. Her eternal current will continue regardless of humanity's existence. 

This project is a culmination of critical reflection and artistic reaction towards a long-term research project. With no final outcome in mind, I did not know where creativity and awareness would take me. Just as the traces of time mark lines in the trunk of the tree, each consideration, and development of this project is a measure of time and change both within me as a human being and as an artist. 

There was once a time when the human footprint was the momentary imprint left by the surface area of our two bare feet. Today, our footprints have left permanent scars, they have flooded nature with artificial and unchanging materials that she cannot absorb or decompose. In the images that follow, the body becomes a metaphor for this footprint, an unsettling and destructive presence amongst nature’s serene calm. Through the physical metamorphosis of the body, I represent a deeper altogether internal metamorphosis achieved through contemplation, recognition, and the embrace of humanity’s imbalanced and one-sided relationship with nature. 

The gift of time for prolonged and frequent reflection that I have been able to give to this long-term project has allowed me to distill a deeply personal truth that aligns with my becoming. To be human is to be animal, and to be animal is to live symbiotically in harmony with our mother, nature.

There is nowhere but here

Lest we not forget,
To be human is to be living
and to be living is to be nature, mother, cosmos. 
Without artifice.
The artificialities of construction have solidified your mind
brittle plastic and strong mortar
you may shatter and crumble
unable to alter
ossification prevents growth,
or change.


She traces the trees with her light
casting imprints of the blackest darkness in dim-night.
Below my feet
across my buttocks
over my eyes. 

She caresses my bare skin
illuminating alabaster and ivory,
The summer sun has not yet arrived to warm my winter pallor. 
Spring has thrust
a-fresh with newborn life
sitting still in the dead of night
under the doting eye of lune-light. 


Ignorant to the names of my flowery friends
“Lotus, Chrysanthemum, Dandelion... Buttercup?”
“Daisy or Bluebell?”
Names are being lost to the sands of time.
One hundred? A thousand?
How many years shall pass before their appellations are left behind,
fettered inside the rings of ancient trees
resting among the whispers of ancestors. 
Before You, 
Homo economicus render them obsolete, unnecessary, non-existent. 
The birth of a single flower
unobservable to the human eye
unable to stop, still and sigh
your attention span withers and dies. 
Accustomed to the abundance of a 100-mile-an-hour-life
anything slower than the spring of data does not log in your mind.


Mother nature has made me a kip.
A protectorate of daffodils trace the border of my bed
a ringlet of trees girdles my contemplative head.
My worthy knights in shining dew
if you listen, she will make yours too.
Warmed by worms wriggling below
or singed by fires of the sky?
Sodden with once-was-ice?
The choice is yours.
unwind your ear, lay out on the ground
past and future - mere words.
Things. Sidetracks. Tendrils.
Artefacts of the human condition,
of 24-7 activities.
The doc-leaf prescribes boredom
and describes contemplatively.


Lest not forget,
to be human is to be animal.
And to be animal is to be here,
and to be here is this right NOW.

If you would like to find out more about this project and see further images please contact my email below.