Paul collects up what has been discarded or forgotten by others and give these objects a new purpose.

They are welcome at his studio, joining the paints and brushes, the mica and foil, the earth and the rain, the glitter and the gold.

They become part of something else, something that will be crafted and cared about.

They are cleaned and stored and wait patiently to perform their cameo in his renaissance for rubbish.

Odd earrings and broken necklaces become stars and moons; old buttons and found beer bottle tops become rocks and pebbles; other people’s detritus, so keenly spotted on long, coronavirus-inspired walks, are purposefully camouflaged into new worlds.

These days he is quite the enthusiast; repurposing, reusing and recycling as much as he can for his work.

Found objects have an inherent history – that’s the bit that appeals to him – but I have tried not to let the repurposing become a cliché.

Consequently, clever pieces constructed from processed empty plastic drinks bottles, or labelled ‘made from 30% recycled hamburger boxes’ do not yet appear in my oeuvre, and nor will they.

More a disapproving observer than an outraged crusader, he has no aspirations for any moral superiority.

He simply collects what he finds and include them in his own landscapes, as if they had been discarded or abandoned in the same uncaring, unthinking way all over again.