Neon Saints, Folk Fears, and The Nightclub at the End of the World

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about symbols — why certain images keep resurfacing, and why I can’t seem to leave them alone.

My most recent work sits in a place between tension and celebration. I've always painted crows (usually with a hand grenade thrown in!) but more recently I've been bringing the disco ball and neon to the forefront. Neon does something interesting to an image. It drags it into the present. It could be a warning sign or a shrine, depending on how you look at it. Disco balls do something similar for me — they suggest pleasure, escape, nightlife but also distraction. A party continuing even when things are clearly falling apart. A nightclub at the end of the world. A sign of the times.

Folk horror has always fascinated me for the same reason. It takes everyday rituals, animals, landscapes and beliefs and lets them tip quietly into something darker. There’s no jump scare — just a slow realisation that something isn’t quite right. I think this is why I've always been drawn to crows and ravens - the (not so sometime!) silent and watchful witnesses.

I think this body of work is about belief — what we inherit, what we question, and what we hold onto even when we’re not sure it still serves us. Folk horror often deals with collective belief systems, but I’m interested in the personal ones too.