This is the story of our lives. Billions of individuals, all that experience that joy that sorrow those salient sparks of sentient thought and subconscious sapient beings. Is it just visual noise or does it all build in to something.


A representation of the nuanced layers of depth that make up our lives, contained within the inescapable commonalities of time and shared humanity. This piece is built up using 8 pages of poetry written in both braille and script fonts.


I aimed to imbue this piece with the change and progress of humanity as told through our divergent evolving writing systems, billions of minds growing in parallel answering the needs of societal change. The select writing systems I’ve represented here, from Cuneiform to braille, Hieroglyphs to Latin, are but a microcosm of the whole, a Bonsai Yggdrasil


Around the world we are seeing progress stall and reversed, legislation being introduced to criminalise the innocent “other”. Increased rhetoric focused on imagined problems to distract from corruption, minorities used as scapegoats. History is horribly rhyming. This work is created in response to the ever growing anti trans rhetoric around the world. It utilises the language of multiple pieces of discriminatory legislation contrasted with information on the broad range of human chromosomal expression. Additional elements include a paraphrasing of "First they came"


Self reflection,

A cracked mirror,

Pressure, Expectation,

Destructive builder.

Based upon the structure of an atom, the wider topic of atomic power, and what power means to us a whole. Containing the final speech from The last Dictator and several original poems. This piece represents the extraordinarily intense, yet in the context of the universe, infinitesimal power we hold and our potential to do great and awful things with it. It's aesthetic nature is intended to evoke to logical beauty to be found in science and hope for the future.


Inspired by the pragmatic machinery of early space exploration, and the last 5 decades of graphical user interface development, it interjects alien and nonsensical elements to convey the presence of emotion and illogical feeling within the human machine and our attempts to read and decipher it.


Ascendency beyond being

We have been and now we are

Celestial sentient conscious stream

Orbiting our inner stars



By the marks we make

Will we pull one another down

Or lift each unto their place

A collection of self portraits celebrating human identity and the personal journey of self discovery.


See, my given name... was a gift given in error, and as wonderful as it’s intent was, it didn’t fit it’s wearer. For when I was born they saw in my form more Apollo than Hera.

Afterall who can blame them, for is the sun not an obvious thing to see,

it’s light literally gives us the clarity. to. see...

The physicality of what is before us, a son

Our sun. In our parents eyes we are equal to none. And I knew that love but it didn’t change the fact that I felt... equal, to none.

I couldn’t find a comparison for my insides, no insight just acting out and acting in, tore apart my skin, made marks that questions spark, and in time grew tired of my feelings fucking whims

I didn’t have the words, I didn’t have the knowledge of the concept that presented to many seems absurd. My fate. That the morning I was born although they saw some truth in my form, Apollo was not bringing a son.


My given name,

was a gift given in error.

As wonderful as its intent was,

it didn't fit its wearer.

For when I was born

I guess they saw in my form

More Apollo than Hera.


Held out hope

held back feelings,

“how are you?” “Fine”

A conversation by rote

But how are you really?

It’s okay to not know


I felt gravities hold surrender

As you rendered me boundless

But then the machine read error

I was a fragment now cast adrift

Incompatible file

My asteroid Apophis


We die and then we're born

In acceptance of loss we're found

We dissolve to take form

We free ourselves so we may be bound

To love to live to laugh and mourn

In all lifes beauty and its sound


Iris audit my world

IRS of my perception

Dilate pupil unfurled

Pupil of visual education


What are we if not a combination of thoughts and feelings scattered across the night sky of our conscious and subconscious perception.


Those comets fall in anguish

For what we've done

As the sky weeps for us

The stars disgraced sons

We treat the constellations as reflections of our myths and dreams, how in turn would they reflect on us.


Welcome to the matrix

Didn't have to be this

But our delusion fucked it

Bastardised saviours, jeez

Us turned to I turned to shit

Now the skies weep comets


I know who I am

I know what I do

I know they can

Yet they refuse

We treat the constellations as reflections of our myths and dreams, how in turn would they reflect on us.


Reflection in black mirror,

Are we data points?

Or that data's interpreter.

How do we see clearer.


Change is situational Transition is eternal

One consists of adaptation

The other embraces evolution Fractal fractures of my features Dysmorphic forms form my face Madness make of me a creature Quicksilver sanity shape this place.


The instruments on my minds dashboard flash and beep insistently at me , all dials spinning wildly. Trying to interpret the data of this feeling, to find a path through, navigate the space between me and you, hold the course stay true avoid the crash of a crush that wasnt meant to be.

The complexities of navigating the often overwhelming feeling of love, empathy, and compassion.


This is the story of our lives. Billions of individuals, all that experience that joy that sorrow those salient sparks of sentient thought and subconscious sapient beings. Is it just visual noise or does it all build in to something.



Don’t you dare have the Gaul to tell me we are “something new”

Just because we are few and the many have come together over time to see our histories erased,

Because they wish to see us replaced with something they consider safe, something “new”.

Knowledge set aflame to keep the ignorant warm. Created as a reminder of the danger of anti scientific sentiment and to highlight how propaganda can rewrite our perception. Burnt books and bodies are what happens when you platform hate and fear. At its heart sits a poem reflecting on the erasure of identities and humanity throughout history. This erasure and otherization stems from desires to control, by creating fear around something not clearly understood and destroying the ability to understand you create a scapegoat. Prior to the Rise of the Third Reich, Berlin was the epicentre for research on sex and gender expression. The first surgical transition was carried out there. The murder of the recipient and destruction of this knowledge set back gender and sexuality research by half a century.

50% of the proceeds from this work were donated to the LGBTQ+ Freedom Fund


Hope surrounds. Despair confounds

It is to our detriment that we ignore the fact that an awareness of pain is also an awareness of peace, definition depth and design cannot exist without the difference between light and dark known as shade. We need the two to provide context.