Not your run-of-the-mill artist's statement
Some things are hard to explain… so I will illustrate:
If I had a motto I would use words like: flexibility, open-ended curiosity, and the furious, unabashed pursuit of the fun and freedom of childhood; a state of playfluence, a fluidity that meanders, wanders, scrawls, adopts, devours, jumps boundaries…
In the classroom it welcomes and assimilates the unfiltered ideas of children. My own inner child, fully intact, I inevitably end up co-creating, riding the wave of whimspiration. No boundaries, just the rush of imagination. This is my whimstinct: an unintentional, deeply embedded philosophy of creativity. We are, after all, here to enjoy.
But there is a deeper fulfilment to be had; bringing those daydreams to life. This requires practical discipline and undaunted problem solving.
I was incredibly lucky to be raised in a household where you could 'do anything'. That was the mindset; you can make or solve absolutely anything. My mother stitched sails for our sailboat from scratch, and together both of our parents converted the ground floor of our home into a rather lovely hairdressing salon so that my mum could work from home while we were growing up.
Dad could, and did, fix anything. We had the same, heavy-duty 1950s fridge and stove for over twenty years. (It was a rude awakening when I grew up and discovered appliances don't last forever!)
That upbringing taught me a crucial lesson: inspiration is the spark, but skill and graft are the anchor. You need the wild, boundary-pushing idea, but you also need the practical, hands-on, repair and build discipline. It's that discipline that gives the daydream flight.
It starts as a tiny tickle of an idea, but when your hands bring it into being — boom! — there it is. Something real, standing in the world, right in front of you like… a brand-new friend.
That's where magic lives.
To see this philosophy in action, one need only look at the things that result.
Consider the story of The Glaucomelon:
The Glaucomelon hangs from a sprawling, unhurried vine wrapped in massive, pruinose leaves — heavily frosted, silver-blue leaves that mimic the open sky. When you look up at the vine, the celestial azure of the plant blends so perfectly with the atmosphere that the entire plant becomes a shimmering mirage. A visual trick, it is nearly invisible… until a stray sunbeam hits the velvety, glaucous fruits and they glow.
Once harvested, this hand-sized sapphire treasure defies expectations. Sliced open, it reveals shockingly vibrant, sun-baked, rubine flesh.
Bypassing the predictable watery burst of a common melon, it offers instead a melting texture like perfectly ripe mango paired with a heady scent like wild jungle jasmine — a luscious wave of intoxicating sweetness.
It is fantasy made physical — the offspring of playfluent dreaming and disciplined making.
