COMPLEMENTING my work as a painter within the walls of my studio is my out-of-studio photographic practice. I find myself trying to condense in my lens the vastness of the land. My photographs are large-scale, mostly long shots, yet my habit as a painter inevitably draws me to nature’s minutiae. To internalise the life of every petal and veinlet, beak and bruise, bark, fork of twig is like being sucked into a world of heightened response. Nothing is trivial in my landscape. The onslaught on nature seeps into spaces of my mind that I never knew existed. This keenness has become a part of my body. The acrid windpipe, the twisted eye are continuations of what I see and feel around me. My sore skin is the unstoppable fragility of the exposed flower. I just give minimal visual shape to these feelings and forms at times literally, at times metaphorically.