At the heart of my work lies an endless search. In the literal sense this has been about telling a story, but more recently the searching has turned inward. In previous works I have depicted a journey made by ambiguous characters. A trail of wanton fearful animals, clipping at the heals of those in front to escape whatever chases. They search for the light. Now this idea of searching has moved into a more conceptual place. Searching, scratching the ground beneath us, for meaning. I feel surrounded by the fears that arise from lack of meaning. That empty hole we stuff with wadding. Fill with potions. Striking one after another damp match. Shelves stacked full of self-help books do little to quell the rising anxiety. Time is ticking. Time is running away with me.