Recently, I have an image in mind, where I’m standing in an unspecified landscape, and it’s possible to reach in, past the foreground, and dismantle and rearrange aspects of the scenery, like blocks of flat colour, into a new picture.  
In different ways, I think I’ve always tried to consider my work as a way of coming to terms with the world; coordinating myself within its systems of matter and symbols. When I began, it was important for me to do so using available objects, but over time this has given way to a practice mainly concerned with using clay.
In the studio, I identify ways of cutting, forming, tearing, etching, constructing, joining and glazing clay to produce structures that develop and use a visual language of my own.  I like the idea of breaking down the process into an orchestrated sequence of tasks, similar to the layering of repetitive percussive sounds in some forms of music.  
But the studio has its own rhythms.  I often have the sense that the real work is in recognising the unintentional things that occur, creating the circumstances in which they can lead the work as far as possible.