Flag for a land with no wind (2025) 
Household tissues, glue, ink. 120x200cm.

あらゆる色合いの青い汗をかき、みどりの中で思い出す

私の中心を川が切りさき、私は立ち上がった。赤、黄色、みどり、白、すみれ色が次々と真珠のようにかがやかせ、殻をむき、真珠のような存在へ変えていく。

私は風のない土地だ。私はここに座って見つめる。見つめつづける。昼も夜も、生きることの湿っぽさを見通す。

私は見つめつづける。暗やみと明るさを、湿気と乾燥を、夜は過ぎ、昼は終わり、機千もの明けが私の中によじ登り、果てのない光景で私を満たす。

私の色はあつめられ、飛び散り、何百万年の太陽の光の中で乾く。

君はそこに立ち、私を見て、匂いを嗅ぎ、私を嗅ぎ、私が君の前で真珠のようなかがやき放す。あらゆる色合いの青い汗をかき、匂いを嗅ぎ、足をふみならして、見つめる、見つめつづける。私は君を見返す〜何かが起きた、そう、君がここに立つ前に何かがすでに起きた〜そして今でも何かがまだ起きている〜

I sweat every shade of blue, I recollect in green

I rose as rivers sawed me down my centre, pearling the reds and the yellows and the greens and the whites and the violets one after the other, shelled, pearled into being.

I am the land with no wind, I sit here and look and keep on looking, looking and looking past the daytimes and the nighttimes and the wetness of living.

I keep on looking and looking through the darkness and the lightness, past the dampness and the dryness, the nighttimes past, the daytimes ended, and a thousand dawns clamber up inside of me and fill me with a sight that never ends.

My colours are gathered and splashed around and left to dry in millions of years of sunlight.

You stand there looking at me, smelling me, sniffing me, as I pearl myself in front of you and sweat every shade of blue, smelling and stomping and looking and looking, and I am looking back at you yes I am looking back at you and something happened, something happened here yes, something happened before you stood here and something is still happening

Би цэнхэр өнгөний бүх сүүдэрт хөлөрч, ногоон өнгөөр санаж байна

Голууд намайг төвөөс минь хөрөөдөж, улаан, шар, ногоон, цагаан, нил ягаан өнгийг нэг нэгээр нь сувдан, хальсалж, сувдан болгон бий болгоход би босов.

Би бол салхигүй нутаг, би энд суугаад өдөр, шөнө, амьдралын чийглэг байдлыг харж, харж, харж байна.

Би харанхуй, гэрлийг нэвтлэн, чийг, хуурайшилтыг, шөнийг өнгөрөөж, өдөр дуусч, мянган үүрийн гэгээ миний дотор гарч ирэн, хэзээ ч дуусашгүй үзэмжээр дүүргэв.

Миний өнгөнүүд цугларч, эргэн тойронд цацагдаж, сая сая жилийн нарны гэрэлд хатахаар үлджээ.

Чи над руу харж, үнэрлэж, үнэрлэж байхад би чиний өмнө хөх өнгөөрөө хөлөрч, үнэрлэж, гишгэж, харж байхад чи тэнд зогсоод байна. Би чам руу эргэж харж байна. Тийм ээ, би чам руу эргэж харж байна. Энд ямар нэгэн зүйл болсон. Тийм ээ, чи энд зогсохоос өмнө ямар нэгэн зүйл болсон. Одоо ч гэсэн ямар нэгэн зүйл болж байна.

This flag floats like a ghost, weighing less than a slice of bread. Made entirely of household 1ply tissues, it is so sensitive that a single sigh or minutely shifting body would send it off its central axis, so fragile that a single touch might tear it, and so thin that shadows may pass behind it.

Flags are for people, places, and beliefs. They represent a unification. Sometimes people are let down by flags. As well as unification, they can also represent falsified history, and ideological propaganda. This flag is not tied down anywhere, not tied to any code or country. I suppose it is rootless. It doesn’t specify who or what it represents. Yet it declares itself resoundingly awake, present, and aged.

I am really, have always been in awe of the power and age of the living planet, of nature, of geological forms. I am in awe of First Nations and other cultural expressions of that the world over. Mixed-race, immigrant or traveller, I’m pretty much always a visitor. Sometimes on my travels to different lands, out on the land where there is nothing but dirt or plant or insect, I do sense the land is looking back at me as this visitor. I’ll stand there listening am I welcome am I not welcome?

I wrote the original words of this flag’s poem on Dharug and Wiradjuri land, painted them in Japanese, using inks sourced in Ulaanbaatar. The tissues are from our rental in Ulaanbaatar. They were 4ply. I peeled each one carefully apart and glued their edges together. They tore by accident many times. I went around patching over and over. The more this work is exhibited the more it will wear and tatter. What holds up in a real flag? 

Radio piece (2025) 
Sticks, rice paper, aluminium, thread, LED lights, cotton, radio.

At MARS Residency in 2024 I spent a lot of time with the radio, tuning into a range of unstable signals, exploring the radio wave-field from a fairly isolated hillside in rural Mongolia. This work is a meditation on that time.

Crowned by sticks picked from a local snow-ridden carpark, the paper lantern which hangs suspended over the radio is on a pulse setting. The electrical impulse from the lantern intercepts the radio signal. As the lantern pulses, the radio is affected, and we are subjected to new sounds. Sound and light move in synchronicity. Aluminium tablets reminiscent of ‘tanabata’ paper wishes send the light glistening around the room. 

This artwork’s soundscape is directly dependent on its surroundings and the time of day, as the radio picks up what stray frequencies are locationally present.

Radio waves possess a sort of abstract permanence that I am fascinated by. Once a radio wave is emitted, does it just go on? Is our atmosphere full of radio waves? Is space full of radio waves?

Spirits possess this same flighty permanence. Media artist Minato Chihiro writes that ‘the shaman communicates with the world of spirits at the interface between nature and art...[involving] media used to expand the functions of the human body and senses, to extend the limits of perception and communciation beyond here-and-now reality.’ I see various modes of technology such as radios, televisions and video games as modern expressions of people’s timeless fascination with ‘other’ worlds beyond our physical plane of existence.

Found something, forgot something (2025) Digital video projection.

An ongoing invisible performance work, this video features ‘snow drawings’ documented in Sasanami village, Yamaguchi prefecture, Japan.