It was ajar. The door. I saw her. Watching me. How many times had she seen it and not said anything? Done anything? Later at dinner her silence persisted. It itched me. Like an old scab. Trying to heal. I couldn’t stop thinking about her eyes watching me. I thought they were wise eyes once. Her big green eyes, the colour of that dirty swimming pool I saw on that movie. Remember? You saw it too. A month later I packed up and left. There were no goodbyes. But she knew I was lea

I was seven years old in 1990 when I arranged my pocket money on top of the acrylic lid of the vinyl player. Folded banknotes stacked up high in a precarious tower. I stared at it thinking of the sweet shop. Of every time I had been there with my younger sister. Of all the chocolates, lollies and chews she had enjoyed while I contented myself with licking the wrapper. Thrifting away. Sacrificing my sweet tooth for a future Barbie doll. Little did I know that all the money I h

Short story inspired by Elinor Stanley, Constellation Head, 2020 part of the exhibition Onlooking at Kupfer Project Space in London. The exhibition is now closed due to lockdown but the works can be viewed online. When he finished writing the story he disappeared and made me promise I would never read it. Not that reading a story tattooed on the back of one’s own head would be a feat easy to accomplish. But I am sure I could do it with the right dose of motivation. I never tr

I wrote this two-version short story during my residency at The Columbia in partnership with Roman Road. It is two versions of the same story. At first I titled it "This is what I tell people/This is what really happened." An audio piece accompanies this text where I recorded the second version on the story. The one that is written upside down and a little blurry. This work was shown together with an audio piece in a group show: The Edge. You can listen to the audio below: #t

Short story inspired by Georgia Elrod, Oondine, 2019 part of Tappan’s online collection: The Body. I felt it when the seed was planted. I remember it because it was the day I butt heads with a bat on my way back from school. It was dusk. That hour the bats go a bit crazy. That hour they make screeching noises. It was a baby bat that hit my forehead. Probably learning to fly. Learning to get its bearings. It took me a few seconds of looking to realise what it was. I only belie

Short story inspired by Sikelela Owen, Yui, 2019 currently part of Together, the first physical exhibition since the lockdown at James Freeman Gallery. 10th July -1st August (London - Free by appointment) He watched her as she lay there. His image reflected on what separated them. He wondered what the difference was between the sleeping and the dead. Was she dreaming? Is that the difference? Between the sleeping and the dead? Dreams. Little did he know what she was dreaming a

Short story inspired by Dorothea Tanning, Pour Gustave l’adoré, 1974 currently shown online at Dorothea Tanning: Mermaids and Metaphors - Chapter One of Journeys, a series of in-depth explorations of individual artworks hosted by Alison Jacques Gallery 10th -31st August (online) I descend into the depths of the ocean inside a bubble. Like a diver in a protective cage looking for a killer shark. Except that I am not looking for a shark. I am looking for Mum. Hurt? Of course no