Fondly known as Big Spider, this piece draws upon folklore, Louise Bourgeois, and Kafka’s The Metamorphosis. Doubt quietly nods to the history of sculpture: her hundreds of hairs are made from bronze swarf collected from my uncle, who engineers parts for model train enthusiasts. Her face is inspired by Michelangelo’s Head of a Faun and countless hours watching Studio Ghibli. The work also incorporates strands of my own hair—gathered after washing and pressed onto the shower wall for later retrieval. Doubt rests in my studio chair, with an expired plaster on her leg (from my part-time job at a pharmacy) and my studio rag draped over the back of the chair.
Doubt, 2025
Newspapers, bronze, wire, canvas, clay, pastel, hair, studio chair and rag
94 x 220 x 230cm
Hanging like a wrecking ball, this work references the Ukrainian craft of Pysanky — painted eggs on which images were “written,” a tradition the Soviet Union once sought to ban. While eggs are often linked to life and rebirth, I use pastel and charcoal newspaper surface to document history, focusing instead on what matters most: people and our connections to one another. The piece became deeply personal when I learned, through my brother, that my great uncle—who had fled Chernihiv to Estonia with his wife—had died from leukaemia. Though I had lost contact with him many years earlier after estranging myself from my mother, the news made me realise the connections I’d lost and would never recover. That is why, inscribed on the egg, is a personal note: “How was I to know I would never see you again.” Trauma, regardless of circumstance, carries both physical and emotional loss. It turns in slow, unending circles—a cycle humanity seems fated to repeat.
War, 2024
Pastel, charcoal, newspaper, polystyrene, twine, and a motor
Install height varies, Egg dimensions: 93 x 62 x 62cm
Part of a series where a rude gesture replaces a politician, this piece plays on the tale of Midas. At first it seems fully covered in gold mirror tiles, but areas of papier-mâché newspaper creep across the surface, disrupting the shine. Set on a disco motor, it rotates and glitters, casting false promises and fool’s gold back at everyone who faces it — while we continue to keep it in the spotlight.
The Politician's Touch, 2024
Mirror tiles, newspapers, canvas, wire, motor, and spotlights
Install hight varies on ceiling height, hand dimensions: TBC
This work began with my usual impulsive thought — I can use that for art — when I rescued old windows from the tip after the landlord replaced them with double glazing. I didn’t know immediately what the windows would become, but their worn edges and peeling paint spoke to me. The piece eventually took shape while I was working on Trepidations (see Pastel works) and experimenting with coating raffle tickets in linseed oil.
Forgone, 2024
Found window, dandelion seeds, raffle tickets, and perspex
108 x 48.4 x 5.1cm
(In a Private Collection)
Built on a rocking base with a surface of papier-mâché newspapers, this sculpture is designed for interaction. When audiences push or pull at the hands, they set it rocking—mimicking the posturing of politicians as they sway against one another, always at the expense of the public interest.
Politicians, 2024
Newspaper, canvas, wire, timber, and PVC
136 x 108 x 48 cm
A strip of wallpaper liner, covered in shredded prescription papers, is held up with 3x2 timber. The prescriptions come from my part-time work as a pharmacy dispenser and shop manager, a job I began in 2021 during the pandemic to help cover bills. The piece serves as a social commentary on the decline of the NHS, and on the impact this erosion and collapse has on the community where the pharmacy is situated.
Ill Support, 2024
Prescription papers, timber, and spray paint
240 x 52 x 54cm
(Left: Manifestations exhibition at PINK, Stockport)
Another sculptural work commenting on healthcare, these pill packets are cast from prescription papers using plaster moulds. Within each pill lie the identities and ailments of individuals—their histories and struggles shredded into oblivion, yet still present.
Means of Survival, 2024
Prescription papers
Dimensions vary
Formed entirely from papier-mâché newspapers, this work began as something else. I had intended it to be the first stage of a large egg piece, experimenting with a 36-inch balloon much like a school project. Midway through drying, the balloon burst and imploded in on itself, leaving a form shaped not by intention, but by collapse.
Russia, 2023
Newspapers
93 x 80 x 90cm
(Left: in Studio. Right: MA show, 2024)
Idle Hands is a sculpture of 13 plaster hands, positioned in a relaxed state, stacked into a pile. The hands represent people in positions of power—such as bureaucrats, lawyers, judges, teachers, social workers—who have the ability to enact change, however small, but often do not. With each arrangement, the pile shifts; no two iterations are the same, reflecting that every absence of action —and every exercise of power withheld — is different.
Idle Hands Are the Abuser's Playground (stacked), 2023
Plaster, jute, and wire
Dimensions vary, approx. 130 x 140 x 130cm
Idle Hands has a performative element that is intended to show the hidden burdens victims of abuse carry. It evokes the emotional labour required to make peace with experiences, and the quiet weight of not receiving the help they deserved or needed. Wearing black during the performance, the dust of untreated plaster marks my clothes, making the invisible burdens of each encounter visible; showing how they accumulate over time.
Left - Idle Hands (Before stacking performance) at MA show, 2024
Right - Performance of stacking at MA show, 2024
Video courtesy of Molly Muhaire
Idle Hands Are the Abuser's Playground (unstacked), 2023
Plaster, jute, and wire
Dimensions of each hand vary approx. around 50 x 60 x 70 each
Known among friends and peers as Big Spoon, this piece marked the revival of my passion for making and creating objects — the previous large-scale object having been made a decade earlier. Through this project and much trial and error, I developed my papier-mâché technique. A symbol of nourishment, care, and provision, the spoon is rendered contrary to that; too large to use and uninviting in its brutalist presence, it towers over viewers.
Mother, 2023
Newspaper, wood, cardboard, foam, and wire
243 X 82 X 48cm
Image courtesy of Franziska Tremper-Jeschke
