Art always comes from art and in the end, many of the ways I set things up can be traced to things I’ve seen.

Sculpture gives me an opportunity to reflect on the journey of the human species, its interaction with the divine earth and living beings. The opportunity to represent the energy that’s been loaned to me in my finite physical form.

As an adult I have somewhat forgotten how to daydream being caught up with everyday life. Being out in nature and letting my mind wander in thought and dreams gave me a sense of hope for the world. I hope people take the opportunity to dream again like as they did as a child.

While painting this, I wanted to capture that sense of peace that I had associated with flowers growing up. As I continue to paint, these themes of experiences from childhood reoccur and become something I reflect on constantly.

The exquisite rhythms, the fine and highly expressive drawing of the human figure in states of tension and movement, and the variety in paint application, enticed me to copy this piece and unlock its wisdom.

This painting is about the uniquely feminine and complex relationships between sisters. I love the intensity of the bonds between women. I think that when women grow up together, they take on aspects of the things in the other that they admire, while also working to define themselves against each other. Sisters never grow up alone, and they shape each other into the women they become.

One of the other great things about painting still life is that is humble and forgiving. You can set up a still life anywhere. It can be as simple or complex as you want.

I love to paint the story behind the object, most of the time I don’t know exactly what it is, but I know it's there – I create it.

I owe a tremendous amount to my taxidermists, as they practice a very difficult and skillful art in their own right, and have been fantastic in working with me to create the poses I’m looking for. For the sleeping robin, I wanted a feeling of deep peace and stillness about the painting, which is reflected in the pose of the bird.

In this particular project my intention was to create a work with a very restricted monochromatic palette to see if I could come up with an image that was both beautiful, powerful and at the same time elegant.

My hopes with this piece was to convey an awareness to autism, by expressing a deeper mental atmosphere using my brother Daniel’s wonderful portrait, and his incredibly articulate hands. An essential puzzle piece to my life. He is, without a doubt, my wellspring of inspiration.

While studying at The Florence Academy of Art one major impact on my work was the rich philosophical, cultural, and historical tradition of Florence. Alongside the philosophical notion of beauty, the idea of ‘divine simplicity’ greatly influences my work.

As clay shrinks over time, it begins to crack, much like our human skin weathers when exposed to the elements. My work’s connection to human existence became clear. We humans are strong and resilient, that's how nature created us. We are part of it. We are no different from what surrounds us, and we are part of the constant cycle of decline and growth.

All along the project I had two motivations: to improve my knowledge of anatomy and to follow in the footsteps of Constantin Brancusi in terms of anatomical study.

The feeling of the elements being free from weight whilst the intensity of her reaction impacts upon them - the foot pushing against the rock underneath, whilst her weight is resting against the floating asteroid. From star dust we came... It’s science fiction but it’s also a domestic tragedy, a Space Opera.

When I first envisioned this work, I pictured the woman a dancer, maybe a ballerina, the morning after a performance. Having recently woken, she reaches down, rubs out her aches and pains, stretches. She is having a dialogue with her body, assessing its wear from the dance as well as rejoicing in her physical capabilities. When she rises she will draw herself a bath.

As an artist who is aware of the tradition of figurative sculpture throughout previous centuries, it is important for me to not repeat or glean from those who I admire, but rather to create something new, never seen before.

I learned that leaves change color faster than I thought, and sometimes it is rewarding to chase nature. Normally I try to make decisions and stick with them, but on this painting I was constantly repainting the leaves with more gold each day. Every painting outside seems to turn into an experiment. Nature is so humbling in that way.

I try to give the world around me the attention I can muster, with my whole body, to more fully sense myself in it, as a part of its complexity and mystery, and in so doing to deepen my own sense of wonder. Brush and pigment in traditional painting powerfully open the mind to the world, always revealing new and fresh aspects.

The Dordogne valley is a very inspiring and visually stunning place. And the gorgeous Château de la Treyne, which rests in perfect harmony with the nature around it, is majestic in its commanding spot above the river. Hence, for me, this piece, as well as the studies made in preparation for it, are special as they act as a reminder of the splendor of this.

With every painting I start I try to explore new challenges and techniques by imitating styles of various painters or paintings. Without the want to explore and experiment I think I would find painting rather meaningless.

Letting a bit of the world into my studio, reminds me of how infinite our solutions and inspirations can be when we observe nature. Art reflects life in this way, it’s just whether or not we can be observant enough to catch it.

Part of the research for my painting included looking through her past representations. I began with Ancient Greek vase painting, which depicted Medusa as terrifying and monstrous. The Temple of Artemis’ pedimental sculpture in Corfu used her image as a protective element. Over a thousand years later, artists continued to be taken with Medusa.

"The seller of lightning rods arrived just ahead of the storm. He came along the street of Green Town, Illinois, in the late cloudy October day, sneaking glances over his shoulder. Somewhere not so far back, vast lightnings stomped the earth. Somewhere, a storm like a great beast with terrible teeth could not be denied."

Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury

If you look closely, what do you see... is it magic?
How do we experience reality.

A video feature on FAA's Director of the Sculpture Drawing Program