Much of my work in art is about trying to get inside the act of interpretation.

I want to feel and know it as an act. An act that a body does: a body that is what it is because of its semiotic powers: and semiotic powers that are what they are because of the body.

Mostly that has been drawing up till recently, but in the past few years I’ve turned, returned, to pictures as well.

The pictures I am interested in making are mostly made with a camera. Usually, there are no events or narrative or people ‘in’ them.

But these non-events take place somewhere. The absences are from somewhere.

Of course, no matter what I do to stop it, the picture will be called a landscape.

Landscape is, and always has been, a colonial act. To me this is unambiguous. You can see it just by looking. And I don’t want to be inside that act.

I could give up on pictures. That is a way out. But I am now committed, for good reasons, I feel, to questions about images.

Also, I cannot unsee this. I knew it before but not in the way that I know it now, and it demands action from me, which, now, I’m trying to get inside of.

My first attempts were in another country as far away as could be from here. Now we are ‘locked down’ on the ‘island continent’, and I must go on.