"FLORA FIBONACCI” was made whilst i was looking at my back garden and thinking about all of the flowers in bloom during June, during Pride month. I started to think of how nature has a way of showing us resilience whilst weaving human and plant forms together.

This self-portrait draws inspiration from the formation of a pearl - born not from perfection, but from an act of healing. The pearls emerging across the face symbolise how pain, vulnerability, and queer identity can be transformed into resilience and quiet beauty, reminding us that our deepest wounds often become the source of our most authentic selves.

A comment on the "President of Peace". "Fuck Peace" represents the fragility of the narrative and the duality of perception.

In hand cast glass, a single gesture shifts meaning based on the viewer’s orientation: a universal symbol for peace from one side, a defiant dismissal from the other. This visual inversion serves as a metaphor for how 'truth' is often a matter of perspective. The piece critiques political artifice, specifically the sanitised rhetoric of 'peace making' that masks state sanctioned violence. By utilising glass, the hand mirrors the distortion of facts and the fragility of peace, challenging observers to confront the uncomfortable contradictions hidden within the optics of power.

Based on recent experiences where Equal Opps policies and protection from harassment are promised, but not upheld.

Prompted by what is happening in the States currently (and elsewhere) and a desire to vocalise my feelings and those of many of my American friends and family, but also of a lot of people around the world. I also wanted to use sign language as part of my attempt to increase accessibility of art to more people.

A comment on the "President of Peace". "Fuck Peace" represents the fragility of the narrative and the duality of perception.

In hand cast glass, a single gesture shifts meaning based on the viewer’s orientation: a universal symbol for peace from one side, a defiant dismissal from the other. This visual inversion serves as a metaphor for how 'truth' is often a matter of perspective. The piece critiques political artifice, specifically the sanitised rhetoric of 'peace making' that masks state sanctioned violence. By utilising glass, the hand mirrors the distortion of facts and the fragility of peace, challenging observers to confront the uncomfortable contradictions hidden within the optics of power.

Prompted by what is happening in the States currently (and elsewhere) and a desire to vocalise my feelings and those of many of my American friends and family, but also of a lot of people around the world. I also wanted to use sign language as part of my attempt to increase accessibility of art to more people.

In Reverie with Trev Flash is a portrait of queer musician, poet and LGBTQ+ homeless advocate Trev Flash. When shown in its entirety, the artwork comprises seven elements across three mediums - an 80-second moving image piece, four prints on aluminium and two hand painted resin sculptures.

At Home with Stephan Bless is an expanded portrait of South East London based second-hand, rare and out-of-print homoerotic book collector Stephan Bless, as he explores his masculinity through a trans lens. The series, when shown in it entirety, comprises of eight printed works on aluminium, three plaster bas reliefs, and two 3D printed sculptures displayed on custom plinths.

In Reverie with Trev Flash is a portrait of queer musician, poet and LGBTQ+ homeless advocate Trev Flash. When shown in its entirety, the artwork comprises seven elements across three mediums - an 80-second moving image piece, four prints on aluminium and two hand painted resin sculptures.

At Home with Stephan Bless is an expanded portrait of South East London based second-hand, rare and out-of-print homoerotic book collector Stephan Bless, as he explores his masculinity through a trans lens. The series, when shown in it entirety, comprises of eight printed works on aluminium, three plaster bas reliefs, and two 3D printed sculptures displayed on custom plinths.

At Home with Stephan Bless is an expanded portrait of South East London based second-hand, rare and out-of-print homoerotic book collector Stephan Bless, as he explores his masculinity through a trans lens. The series, when shown in it entirety, comprises of eight printed works on aluminium, three plaster bas reliefs, and two 3D printed sculptures displayed on custom plinths.

At Home with Stephan Bless is an expanded portrait of South East London based second-hand, rare and out-of-print homoerotic book collector Stephan Bless, as he explores his masculinity through a trans lens. The series, when shown in it entirety, comprises of eight printed works on aluminium, three plaster bas reliefs, and two 3D printed sculptures displayed on custom plinths.

She deserved a sword is a piece inspired by the innocence of youth and wanting to still be able to hold onto it while being strong and having had built up resilience, In this piece I felt strong about trying to heal my inner child and bringing myself back to her being difficult and that she has put her guard up and that having grief and rage for the young girl I used to be but hope for the future that I am still myself and finding my way back to my spark.

She deserved a sword is a piece inspired by the innocence of youth and wanting to still be able to hold onto it while being strong and having had built up resilience, In this piece I felt strong about trying to heal my inner child and bringing myself back to her being difficult and that she has put her guard up and that having grief and rage for the young girl I used to be but hope for the future that I am still myself and finding my way back to my spark.

She deserved a sword is a piece inspired by the innocence of youth and wanting to still be able to hold onto it while being strong and having had built up resilience, In this piece I felt strong about trying to heal my inner child and bringing myself back to her being difficult and that she has put her guard up and that having grief and rage for the young girl I used to be but hope for the future that I am still myself and finding my way back to my spark.

She deserved a sword is a piece inspired by the innocence of youth and wanting to still be able to hold onto it while being strong and having had built up resilience, In this piece I felt strong about trying to heal my inner child and bringing myself back to her being difficult and that she has put her guard up and that having grief and rage for the young girl I used to be but hope for the future that I am still myself and finding my way back to my spark.

She deserved a sword is a piece inspired by the innocence of youth and wanting to still be able to hold onto it while being strong and having had built up resilience, In this piece I felt strong about trying to heal my inner child and bringing myself back to her being difficult and that she has put her guard up and that having grief and rage for the young girl I used to be but hope for the future that I am still myself and finding my way back to my spark.

Queer people have always existed, in body, mind and spirit. Despite efforts across the world to erase us in full or in part, we remain. Still Here is a simple statement of that fact, and a complex one beneath its surface. To exist and to demand to be seen, in the face of whatever opposition or oppression we meet, draws on a sacred legacy of resilience, strength, power and what can only be called queer magic. Still Here is a celebration of the joy of being queer as much as it is a statement of defiance. For me, that legacy lives in the body. These self-portraits, under the title Still Sacred, come from a practice of returning to the body as a place of spirit rather than shame, honouring what religion and culture have too often told queer people to hide. Being still, being present in my own skin, is itself an act of both survival and celebration.

Queer people have always existed, in body, mind and spirit. Despite efforts across the world to erase us in full or in part, we remain. Still Here is a simple statement of that fact, and a complex one beneath its surface. To exist and to demand to be seen, in the face of whatever opposition or oppression we meet, draws on a sacred legacy of resilience, strength, power and what can only be called queer magic. Still Here is a celebration of the joy of being queer as much as it is a statement of defiance. For me, that legacy lives in the body. These self-portraits, under the title Still Sacred, come from a practice of returning to the body as a place of spirit rather than shame, honouring what religion and culture have too often told queer people to hide. Being still, being present in my own skin, is itself an act of both survival and celebration.

Queer people have always existed, in body, mind and spirit. Despite efforts across the world to erase us in full or in part, we remain. Still Here is a simple statement of that fact, and a complex one beneath its surface. To exist and to demand to be seen, in the face of whatever opposition or oppression we meet, draws on a sacred legacy of resilience, strength, power and what can only be called queer magic. Still Here is a celebration of the joy of being queer as much as it is a statement of defiance. For me, that legacy lives in the body. These self-portraits, under the title Still Sacred, come from a practice of returning to the body as a place of spirit rather than shame, honouring what religion and culture have too often told queer people to hide. Being still, being present in my own skin, is itself an act of both survival and celebration.

Queer people have always existed, in body, mind and spirit. Despite efforts across the world to erase us in full or in part, we remain. Still Here is a simple statement of that fact, and a complex one beneath its surface. To exist and to demand to be seen, in the face of whatever opposition or oppression we meet, draws on a sacred legacy of resilience, strength, power and what can only be called queer magic. Still Here is a celebration of the joy of being queer as much as it is a statement of defiance. For me, that legacy lives in the body. These self-portraits, under the title Still Sacred, come from a practice of returning to the body as a place of spirit rather than shame, honouring what religion and culture have too often told queer people to hide. Being still, being present in my own skin, is itself an act of both survival and celebration.

Queer people have always existed, in body, mind and spirit. Despite efforts across the world to erase us in full or in part, we remain. Still Here is a simple statement of that fact, and a complex one beneath its surface. To exist and to demand to be seen, in the face of whatever opposition or oppression we meet, draws on a sacred legacy of resilience, strength, power and what can only be called queer magic. Still Here is a celebration of the joy of being queer as much as it is a statement of defiance. For me, that legacy lives in the body. These self-portraits, under the title Still Sacred, come from a practice of returning to the body as a place of spirit rather than shame, honouring what religion and culture have too often told queer people to hide. Being still, being present in my own skin, is itself an act of both survival and celebration.

These bricks are made of 20 layers of hand-enamelled and laser-engraved pieces of glass, stacked and fused together. Fragile individual layers bond together to become strong. They represent assaults visited upon queer bodies, but they can also be thrown in power, and contain words that function the same way. Bricks can be used as weapons -- but they can also be used to build. The structures they build can be shelters, and can isolate.

For the pigment I've used gold pink enamel. I love how gold – that most valued of materials, makes pink glass, that queerest of colours.

With this painting, my aim is to create an erotic dialogue between the characters in the scene. It is the contemplation and desire of the male beauty in a refreshing space, in any shower gym, a mystery picture where they do not show their faces in full.

With this piece I also explore the concepts of identity, gender and transgression, where gay men can enjoy the view of another naked stimulating body with a gaze.

The image is stopped in this instant that the we see the back of the man in the shower, and the back head of the man looking at him, we can wonder what would happens later in any minute, it is a kind of an aperture into the possibilities and expectations which we carry around in our life and specific circumstances.

This portrait is about sensuality and celebrating attitudes that make life enjoyable, motivated by pleasure and by embracing our feelings and freedom, it is about our sensitivity to beauty without any shame. In the same way, I tend to embrace who I am in my personal and artistic life.

A domestic scene with chosen family incorporating a visit from the holy spirit.

Michelangelo's Battle of Cascina depicts soldiers surprised while bathing, scrambling to dress before battle. It is a painting about urgency, vulnerability and the disciplined male body. In The Sanctuary at Cascina, I imagine the opposite. The figures are no longer preparing for conflict or concealing themselves.

Instead, they inhabit a world where queer desire exists without fear, secrecy or shame. Bodies are not policed or judged; they simply exist in relationship with one another.

This isn't a fantasy about sex as much as a meditation on freedom. How might we move through the world if we had never been taught that certain parts of ourselves needed to be hidden?

By borrowing Michelangelo's composition, I wanted to reclaim one of the great monuments of Western art as a place of refuge rather than exclusion—a sanctuary where vulnerability is met with acceptance instead of scrutiny.

This painting began with a small detail in Michelangelo's The Last Judgement. Hidden among the hundreds of figures ascending to heaven is an intimate embrace between two men. While Michelangelo's work has been celebrated for centuries, it has also been repeatedly altered and censored, particularly where the male body and same-sex desire are concerned.

In The Welcome, I reimagine that fragment of Michelangelo's vision through a contemporary queer lens. The central embrace is surrounded by scenes of affection, intimacy and connection drawn from modern life, creating a vision of heaven in which queer love is not scrutinised, hidden or tolerated, but simply welcomed.

The work asks a simple question: if heaven is a place of perfect acceptance, who gets to belong there?

A scene that imagines how a contemporary crowd would react to the crucifixion.

This piece was a drawing exploring queer and femme night spaces of the future; no longer in the shadows, and instead part of our streetscapes. It is based on the artist’s own experience co-producing queer night space Femmergy in Edinburgh, and aims to reflect the communities that the artist’s work generally sits within; queer, disabled, and grounded in the experiences of women and femme people.

This sculpture is heavily inspired from the film 'I Saw the TV Glow' and is an embodiment of my journey in breaking out of the boundaries and expectations of gender as a whole. It exposes that you don't have to repress yourself into a role not fit for you, and there's always a way out even when at times it feels impossible.

This tribute to Freddie Mercury signifies the importance of Queer culture, and celebrates his life that's given hope to so many people within our community. I've attempted to capture the bold soul who refused to submit to the stereotypes of who we can be on the surface, and reflect on what he had to endure for being unapologetically himself.

This self portrait was my first depiction of how fluid my identity really is (both with my gender and sexuality), and how I've gradually accepted that you don't have to box yourself in to be accepted. Sometimes there isn't one right answer, or a perfectly encapsulating word that can summarise who we are. We're constantly learning and growing and sailing through a world of our own experiences, and as long as we're comfortable with who we are- nobody can tell us what direction to go.

These tributes to Marsha P Johnson were to memorialise her role within the LGBTQ+ rights movement. I wanted to encapsulate the hope that she ignited by refusing to stand down in a world full of hate- a spark that's brought the community together and created charity's like Stonewall UK and the Blood Sisters (The group of lesbians who gave their blood and assistance during the Aids crisis). She fought the fight for everyone to have a chance for a better tomorrow, and we owe it to her to continue onwards in her name.

These tributes to Marsha P Johnson were to memorialise her role within the LGBTQ+ rights movement. I wanted to encapsulate the hope that she ignited by refusing to stand down in a world full of hate- a spark that's brought the community together and created charity's like Stonewall UK and the Blood Sisters (The group of lesbians who gave their blood and assistance during the Aids crisis). She fought the fight for everyone to have a chance for a better tommorow, and we owe it to her to continue onwards in her name.

A series of images of my drag king persona known to as “Big Johnson”, at a whooping 5ft 6 , he really does take up a lot of space in the room. Performances ranging from gay polycule cowboy love tales , to leading queer masses and professing his homosexual desire for Jesus Christ. As well as hosting drag king shows , and being a gender bender who also presents a femme dominatrix.

A series of images of my drag king persona known to as “Big Johnson”, at a whooping 5ft 6 , he really does take up a lot of space in the room. Performances ranging from gay polycule cowboy love tales , to leading queer masses and professing his homosexual desire for Jesus Christ. As well as hosting drag king shows , and being a gender bender who also presents a femme dominatrix.

A series of images of my drag king persona known to as “Big Johnson”, at a whooping 5ft 6 , he really does take up a lot of space in the room. Performances ranging from gay polycule cowboy love tales , to leading queer masses and professing his homosexual desire for Jesus Christ. As well as hosting drag king shows , and being a gender bender who also presents a femme dominatrix.

Look @ the Do-it-yourself hormone replacement gel bottle, it’s placed on the top of a rolling tray covered in an array of stickers, an attempt to create commentary on how the internet connects trans people in order to find community + sourcing DIY HRT - a sort of black market of gender affirming healthcare. Thus becoming a bounding ritual between trans people - what’s the newest running joke on the trans meme pages?

Memes are studied as a linguistic frame work, it’s not limited to a joke , instead as “multimodal units”. A mixture of various elements , including but not limited to :text, cultural knowledge, visuals and location. Functioning as a contemporary form of communication. Debatably, a modern day sigil.

A series of images of my drag king persona known to as “Big Johnson”, at a whooping 5ft 6 , he really does take up a lot of space in the room. Performances ranging from gay polycule cowboy love tales , to leading queer masses and professing his homosexual desire for Jesus Christ. As well as hosting drag king shows , and being a gender bender who also presents a femme dominatrix.

This work showcases a giant carabiner I bought whilst in New York. It made me reflect on the significance the carabiner has on the queer community , specifically lesbian community. I don’t identify as a lesbian but I have had lesbian experiences.

My experience with queerness feels tainted by being harassed by other queer people’s assumptions and preconceived notions about me, my body and my sexuality. I have felt shunned and judged for looking queer enough but not fitting into people’s ideals of queerness. The carabiner holds significance to so many queer people but at the end of the day, the carabiner is just a carabiner . We are the ones who put project this significance onto it , which carries onto the wearer.

A series of images of my drag king persona known to as “Big Johnson”, at a whooping 5ft 6 , he really does take up a lot of space in the room. Performances ranging from gay polycule cowboy love tales , to leading queer masses and professing his homosexual desire for Jesus Christ. As well as hosting drag king shows , and being a gender bender who also presents a femme dominatrix.

Destroy What You Love is a rumination on multiplicity and metamorphosis. The series of collages heavily feature various forms of print-making, a process where images are duplicated and the most perfect iterations are chosen to be displayed or sold. This work rejects perfection, choosing instead to embrace the discarded and the damaged, composed as something new; a community collaged together. As one, they transcend both their initial fates and their intended purposes into something far more beautiful.

Destroy What You Love is a rumination on multiplicity and metamorphosis. The series of collages heavily feature various forms of print-making, a process where images are duplicated and the most perfect iterations are chosen to be displayed or sold. This work rejects perfection, choosing instead to embrace the discarded and the damaged, composed as something new; a community collaged together. As one, they transcend both their initial fates and their intended purposes into something far more beautiful.

Destroy What You Love is a rumination on multiplicity and metamorphosis. The series of collages heavily feature various forms of print-making, a process where images are duplicated and the most perfect iterations are chosen to be displayed or sold. This work rejects perfection, choosing instead to embrace the discarded and the damaged, composed as something new; a community collaged together. As one, they transcend both their initial fates and their intended purposes into something far more beautiful.

Destroy What You Love is a rumination on multiplicity and metamorphosis. The series of collages heavily feature various forms of print-making, a process where images are duplicated and the most perfect iterations are chosen to be displayed or sold. This work rejects perfection, choosing instead to embrace the discarded and the damaged, composed as something new; a community collaged together. As one, they transcend both their initial fates and their intended purposes into something far more beautiful.

Destroy What You Love is a rumination on multiplicity and metamorphosis. The series of collages heavily feature various forms of print-making, a process where images are duplicated and the most perfect iterations are chosen to be displayed or sold. This work rejects perfection, choosing instead to embrace the discarded and the damaged, composed as something new; a community collaged together. As one, they transcend both their initial fates and their intended purposes into something far more beautiful.

A bold linocut protest piece that reclaims queer solidarity through the language of labour movements, declaring that liberation is collective or not at all. Through fractured typography and the image of a chain breaking fist, it insists on unity, centering trans inclusion as essential, not optional, within LGBTQ+ resistance.

A satirical linocut that commodifies queer pain, presenting “tears” as a tongue-in-cheek product. Marketed, bottled, and sold back to the viewer. Using the visual language of vintage advertising and the reclaimed pink triangle, the piece critiques both external hostility and the exploitation of queer suffering, turning bitterness into something defiantly visible and self-owned.

A confrontational linocut that mimics tabloid panic to expose the policing of queer bodies as a manufactured scandal. By juxtaposing invasive scrutiny with slogans of solidarity and global resistance, the piece redirects attention to systemic harm, arguing that while queerness is sensationalized, real injustices remain ignored and unpunished.

A darkly playful linocut that frames resistance as both survival and solidarity, using the visual language of nightlife to speak to life “in the trenches.” Flaming cocktails and raised fists collide with protest slogans, suggesting that even in struggle, queer community sustains itself through defiance, care, and shared moments of release.

A sharp linocut that challenges the sanitisation of Pride, exposing the tension between grassroots resistance and corporate spectacle. By placing riot shields branded with familiar logos against a crowd of protestors, the piece reclaims Pride as a site of struggle, insisting that liberation cannot be sponsored, contained, or made comfortable.

The paintings in this exhibit are part of a project titled ‘Domestic Queerness’ which was fuelled by my anger and fear of the current direction of attitudes towards LGBTQ people in the UK. As my project developed, my attitude shifted from working through anger and fear to wanting to convey the immense love I have in my life and the peace I have found living with my partner.

It is unfortunately an immense privilege among young LGBTQ people to have a home that is a place of true sanctuary, where one can be themself freely without shame or fear. At the end of a difficult day, I get to retreat to a place where I am understood and can heal from the outside world, and everyone deserves to have such a place. My paintings invite the viewer to see what really happens behind the closed doors for queer people, in all the mundane glory we have to offer.

All of my paintings are handmade and built from scratch. I built the wooden panels by hand, primed with a traditional gesso made with rabbit skin glue, and made my oil paints from dry pigments. Such a technically involved process suits how I work, always taking extra time to pour meaningful and intentional energy into everything I do.

The paintings in this exhibit are part of a project titled ‘Domestic Queerness’ which was fuelled by my anger and fear of the current direction of attitudes towards LGBTQ people in the UK. As my project developed, my attitude shifted from working through anger and fear to wanting to convey the immense love I have in my life and the peace I have found living with my partner.

It is unfortunately an immense privilege among young LGBTQ people to have a home that is a place of true sanctuary, where one can be themself freely without shame or fear. At the end of a difficult day, I get to retreat to a place where I am understood and can heal from the outside world, and everyone deserves to have such a place. My paintings invite the viewer to see what really happens behind the closed doors for queer people, in all the mundane glory we have to offer.

All of my paintings are handmade and built from scratch. I built the wooden panels by hand, primed with a traditional gesso made with rabbit skin glue, and made my oil paints from dry pigments. Such a technically involved process suits how I work, always taking extra time to pour meaningful and intentional energy into everything I do.

This series presents propositional portraits that are assembled rather than observed. Built from found and self sourced imagery through processes of substitution, mutation and recombination, each work constructs a composite character instead of documenting an existing individual.

The works draw on images shaped by digital culture where identity is continually constructed through performance, circulation and acts of looking. They consider how bodies are negotiated through these spaces, where visibility can become a site of affirmation, desire, fetishisation and consumption. Rather than offering fixed identities, the portraits remain unstable and unresolved, reflecting the continual process of becoming that characterises contemporary experiences of the self.

These digitally constructed images are then reconstructed in paint, where their seams and instabilities remain visible. For this online exhibition, the paintings have been digitally recontextualised, returning them to the digital environments from which they emerged and extending the dialogue between image construction and physical painting.

This series presents propositional portraits that are assembled rather than observed. Built from found and self sourced imagery through processes of substitution, mutation and recombination, each work constructs a composite character instead of documenting an existing individual.

The works draw on images shaped by digital culture where identity is continually constructed through performance, circulation and acts of looking. They consider how bodies are negotiated through these spaces, where visibility can become a site of affirmation, desire, fetishisation and consumption. Rather than offering fixed identities, the portraits remain unstable and unresolved, reflecting the continual process of becoming that characterises contemporary experiences of the self.

These digitally constructed images are then reconstructed in paint, where their seams and instabilities remain visible. For this online exhibition, the paintings have been digitally recontextualised, returning them to the digital environments from which they emerged and extending the dialogue between image construction and physical painting.

This series presents propositional portraits that are assembled rather than observed. Built from found and self sourced imagery through processes of substitution, mutation and recombination, each work constructs a composite character instead of documenting an existing individual.

The works draw on images shaped by digital culture where identity is continually constructed through performance, circulation and acts of looking. They consider how bodies are negotiated through these spaces, where visibility can become a site of affirmation, desire, fetishisation and consumption. Rather than offering fixed identities, the portraits remain unstable and unresolved, reflecting the continual process of becoming that characterises contemporary experiences of the self.

These digitally constructed images are then reconstructed in paint, where their seams and instabilities remain visible. For this online exhibition, the paintings have been digitally recontextualised, returning them to the digital environments from which they emerged and extending the dialogue between image construction and physical painting.

This series presents propositional portraits that are assembled rather than observed. Built from found and self sourced imagery through processes of substitution, mutation and recombination, each work constructs a composite character instead of documenting an existing individual.

The works draw on images shaped by digital culture where identity is continually constructed through performance, circulation and acts of looking. They consider how bodies are negotiated through these spaces, where visibility can become a site of affirmation, desire, fetishisation and consumption. Rather than offering fixed identities, the portraits remain unstable and unresolved, reflecting the continual process of becoming that characterises contemporary experiences of the self.

These digitally constructed images are then reconstructed in paint, where their seams and instabilities remain visible. For this online exhibition, the paintings have been digitally recontextualised, returning them to the digital environments from which they emerged and extending the dialogue between image construction and physical painting.

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This banner speaks from a position of both love and uncertainty about the art world and academia. After graduating art school and working short, temp roles in the Art World, I feel the conflict of living in limbo: between awe and alienation, between jobs, and between graduation and professionalism.

This banner speaks from a position of both love and uncertainty about the art world and academia. After graduating art school and working short, temp roles in the Art World, I feel the conflict of living in limbo: between awe and alienation, between jobs, and between graduation and professionalism.

This banner speaks from a position of both love and uncertainty about the art world and academia. After graduating art school and working short, temp roles in the Art World, I feel the conflict of living in limbo: between awe and alienation, between jobs, and between graduation and professionalism.