My practice is defined by the use of real butterflies, insects, and spiders rather than representational imagery. This material choice is grounded in questions of authenticity, presence, and material truth. A painted insect functions as an image or sign; a real specimen carries physical history, mortality, and irreversibility. That distinction is central to my work.

René Magritte’s The Treachery of Images offers a useful framework for this approach. His painted pipe, accompanied by the statement “This is not a pipe,” exposes the separation between representation and object. In contrast, my work seeks to reduce that distance. The specimens I use are not illustrations of nature; they are material evidence of it, operating simultaneously as image, object, and trace.

Working with real specimens anchors the work in lived reality. The viewer is not confronted with symbolism alone, but with the presence of something that once lived. Beauty and mortality coexist within the same material, producing a tension that cannot be resolved through representation.

This approach is particularly important in my use of spiders. Spiders occupy a culturally charged space and are easily aestheticised or pushed into the theatrical. By working with real specimens, I aim to resist metaphorical excess and decorative symbolism. As with narratives described as being based on true events, the work draws its intensity from proximity to reality rather than invention. A real spider carries a psychological weight that a painted image cannot replicate.

This material logic is also shaped by my upbringing. References to antique taxidermy collections often conjure images of grand houses or inherited privilege, but that was not my experience. I grew up in a small semi-detached house on a Sheffield housing estate. Within that ordinary domestic setting, my parents kept antique framed butterflies and a taxidermied bird of prey. These objects were not displayed as curiosities or status symbols; they were simply present. For me, they established an early understanding of art as something materially grounded — not a representation of the world, but a preserved fragment of it.

Across my practice, material is never neutral. The specimens I use bring their own histories, vulnerabilities, and limitations into the work. By working with what is real rather than representational, I aim to create encounters that are contemplative yet unsettling, inviting viewers to reconsider assumptions about beauty, nature, and authenticity.