A Shift Toward the Record

For many years, my work unfolded through encounters with animals in the wild — moments gathered during travel, observation, and long periods of waiting. I wrote about some of these encounters, photographed many more, and slowly translated a number of them into artworks. At the time, I understood this simply as practice: moving through landscapes, noticing what revealed itself, and trying to hold those moments with care.

Over time, a different understanding began to form.

What I was witnessing was not only beauty, rarity, or even vulnerability, but something quieter and more constant — endurance. Animals continuing within landscapes increasingly shaped by human proximity. Movements adjusted. Timings altered. Paths remembered. Survival not as a single dramatic event, but as a continuous, attentive act.

The name Collected Moments of Survival has emerged from this realisation.
It is not a departure from my earlier work, but a clearer articulation of what has always been present within it. The drawings, the photographs, the written field notes, and the encounters themselves now gather under a single intention: to record moments in which animal life persists without spectacle and without interference.

This blog forms part of that record.

What was once a travelogue now becomes a series of field notes — fragments of presence observed over time. Some moments are recent; others reach back many years. Together, they create a continuity that no single image or story could hold alone. The aim is not to document everything, but to recognise what matters enough to be carried forward.

The direction of Collected Moments of Survival is therefore both simple and demanding.
It asks for patience rather than urgency, attention rather than drama, and restraint rather than conclusion. The work will continue to move between image, text, and place, slowly forming a body of record that remains open-ended by nature.

The eventual goal is not an ending, but a deepening.
Books may gather specific species or landscapes. Artworks may enter private custodianship. Exhibitions may make parts of the record briefly visible. Yet the core intention remains unchanged: to witness animal endurance and to hold those moments with honesty and care.

A record such as this can never be complete.
What continues tomorrow has not yet been seen.

And so the work continues — quietly, attentively — adding one moment at a time to the living record of survival.