Your work feels like it's excavated rather than manufactured. What first drew you to symbols and ancient objects as a visual language?
It's the question of invention or discovery and I'm very much team discovery. Everything is already there, and always has been. Symbols just point toward that nowhere-to-be-found but everywhere-present everything-ness. It's the romantic idealist stance.
You often combine digital modeling with primitive casting techniques. What interests you about bringing those two worlds together?
Novelty is an attribute of things in time; newness is an inversion of the infinite. So paradoxically, if you're trying to point in the direction of God, the best signpost material is cutting-edge technology. If that makes any sense at all. Having said that, mostly it's not really a philosophical choice on my part, it's convenience. I use CNC machining and 3D printing because they're simply the fastest way to get an idea out of my head and into a shape. If I could 3D print directly in metal, I would, I just sand cast because it's way cheaper.
You've spoken about mythology as a way of understanding the present. Are there particular civilizations, belief systems or symbols that continue to influence your work today?
I think we live in a Gnostic age, one of self-empowerment through (g)knowledge. You might think I'm about to criticize individualism, but I'm not. I think self-knowing is an essential step, a chapter, in an individual's development. But the ultimate Gnostic truth (self-knowledge) is, to me, knowledge of Christ. I actually think the Promethean story is quite Gnostic in structure; acting as gods ourselves, gaining power and control over nature. Transgression as the origin of enlightenment rather than sin. The Promethean instinct is hard to suppress - but only having chased that flame and burnt ourselves a little do we learn that it was a cautionary tale. I think people read the golem, or Frankenstein's monster, and their first reaction is "cool, let's make our own monster." The whole world is Dr. Frankenstein right now, preoccupied with the attainment of ever more worldly knowledge. But the kind of knowledge we need isn't of this world.
Is there a particular symbol, object or topic you've been researching recently?
I'm a huge fan of E.T.A. Hoffmann and the German Romantics.
Your collaboration with Robert Wun has become one of the defining aspects of your practice. How did that relationship begin, and what was it about Robert's work that made you want to build alongside it?
He's very good at seeing my strengths and using them properly; putting me to best use, and not putting me where I shouldn't be.
Can you walk us through your process? Does Robert usually come to you with a sketch, a reference, or simply an idea, and how do you translate that into a finished object?
It varies a lot, but best case scenario, Robert gives me a loose sketch and talks me through the whole concept. We sit down and have a conversation about it, and then he'll say, "I'll need that by next week."
Of everything you've created for Robert, is there one piece that you're especially proud of?
I genuinely love the birds from the recent collection, I think they're amazing. I loved studying references of animals and birds in flight, and I have a new appreciation for bird wings and feathers now.
Working so closely to Robert Wun's collections gives you a perspective few people ever see. What have you learned about the relationship between craftsmanship and storytelling in couture?
I think the story is what gives an object its meaning, its logic - and Robert does it really well, it’s so clear and unmistakeable. I think most of an object's value sits in that logic, above the form and the aesthetics. You could make something quite disproportionate, but if the logic behind it justifies the ugliness, it becomes beautiful.
I heard you're renovating a church in Scotland. What drew you to that building, and has constructing a space that carries so much history changed the way you think about making objects?
Honestly? It was cheap and spacious. But having moved in and spent time in this old stone church, it has influenced me more than I might realize. Actually, the church is a great example of craftsmanship and storytelling... Cathedrals are often built like a body, given life through the meaning of what it was built for.
When people look back at your work decades from now, what do you hope they understand about the world you were trying to build?
I try not to think too much about what people think - even an imagined future people. I just want to make something true, good and beautiful. I'd like myself to remain anonymous, but my works to be known, like the Gothic architects and masons of 13th-century Britain.
