I walked past this contraption the other day. Two large, thin sheets of ply-wood (think ‘single bed’ size) were put up to block the entrance of a driveway. A make-shift gate. The person who put it there had used another piece of wood to hold the two sheets of plywood together (probably the same man who was singing as he worked on the roof of the house, this driveway belonged to). I slowed down, my ‘found sculpture’ radar on high alert. I knew I should take a picture, but hesitated a second too long and kept walking, slightly worried about being shouted at. This sort of thing happens often, not so much the being shouted at, but finding sculptural occurrences, as I call them, in everyday life. In addition to taking photographs of said occurrences, I write experimental texts, draw, make ephemera and yes, the occasional sculpture. I see them as documents that pay homage to a particular time in history (i.e. the now). What ties many of the works together is my interest in language and the waywardly poetic quality present in the everyday. Ultimately my artworks are the result of playful investigations. Through making I’m simultaneously questioning and discovering what an artwork can be and how it operates when it enters into the wider world.