To give us a bit of context, can you start by leading us through your journey as an artist? What were the first motivations and moments that made you the artist you are today?

Making things really reminds me of my childhood, I think, when I was always making things. I did a photography course at college, but never did anything with it, and only came back to photography a few years ago, when I started swimming in the sea and discovered how beautiful it is underwater. I had wanted to learn to swim for sport initially, but I get too distracted by looking around! 

It was quite disheartening to realise how toxic the chemicals are to the environment and after initially not wanting to pursue photography again, I started researching and discovered a world of incredible, inspirational artists and photographers creating more sustainable practices, using plants to develop film, camera less photography and so on - it has inspired me to teach myself some of these techniques, beginning with cyanotype, but also enabled me to re-think how I could use digital photography whilst reducing the impact my practice has on the planet.

I recently completed a wonderful artist development programme with Nimble Art School. As a largely self-taught artist, I have always regretted not going to art school, it has been a great opportunity to meet like minded creatives, and this has really fuelled my interest in art.

Your practice focuses on contrasting fleeting moments of connection with the natural world against the frightening feeling of time moving too fast. How did you become interested in this tension, and in what ways does your artistic practice function as a form of temporal resistance, creating spaces for contemplation against this acceleration?

Perhaps it is related to being a parent and my children growing up, alongside the frustration at the seemingly glacial pace of action by governments in recognising the climate emergency. It is also quite a powerful reminder of how fleeting life is, living alongside this ancient landscape.

Swimming is a form of meditative practice for me; it allows a pause in my day, where I can only be ‘in the moment’. This brief window of calm in a busy day serves as a window into a different world, a brief holiday from the busyness of everyday life. It’s ironic that I need to rush to and from the beach, but those few quiet minutes are precious.

In your artist statement, you mentioned that your daily walks and swims have allowed you to engage deeply with your environment, fostering a deeper understanding of your local surroundings and your role within them. Do these practices serve as both research methodology and performative practice within your artistic framework?

I’m not sure it’s consciously either of these. We always walk a lot as a family, so I suppose it is research in as much as I’m gathering information through my senses - I walk alone or with the children as exercise and leisure but there is always something to see, something to discover,  the landscape is always changing through the weather and the seasons which serve as inspiration which can inform my creativity.

The deeper knowledge that comes from living in a place for a long time has really supported my understanding of the sense of place, the colours of the landscape, for example. I have developed strong emotional attachments to insignificant details, such as my favourite rock or excitement at the first shoots of foxgloves, or specific scents, dog roses at the weird beach, and chamomile by the burial chamber.

Your practice encompasses digital photography and filmmaking, creating a rich dialogue between documentary reality and the imagined landscape of your island environment. How do you feel these specific media enhance your ability to bridge the tangible and the imagined? What kind of emotional or intellectual connection do you hope to foster between your viewers and this liminal space you've created?

Although much of the history of Scilly has been lost, there are hints of the connection to Atlantis and many historical sites locally. The Isles of Scilly invite us to daydream and take time to wonder about the past, so I feel as if this bridge between the tangible and imaginary has always existed here.

I think I hope to depict the natural beauty in both a realistic but also an emotional sense. The ability to edit digital pictures is useful, by accentuating certain aspects of images, my hope is to express how I felt in that particular moment.

The viewer, of course, has a choice whether to consider the wider issues affecting the oceans, but I hope that by allowing a space to reflect on the beauty within our seas, this could develop a deeper connection.

Living in such a tiny community, I believe it is important to engage with the wider world, and digital photography and video allow this connection to happen, though using social media to share images has its own complexities.

Using video and sound, I hope to offer more of a story telling approach. My underwater images depict fleeting moments that could not be captured by any other means - whilst it is possible to press seaweed, this will lack the movement and the filtered sunlight which makes the underwater world so magical, it’s particularly precious to me, to just witness nature, doing its own thing.

In what ways does your practice function as socio-ecological research, bridging artistic methodology with environmental consciousness?

I would like my practice to bridge the gap between a specific local area and reflect, not only my relationship with this special place, but also engage others who share this deep affection. In this way, my hope is that I can engage or support a growing awareness that our environment not only needs to be protected, but also the ways in which we can achieve this. The local community are fiercely protective of their island home, and I’m sure they would all wish to protect these islands and the oceans that surround us. As climate scientist,  Katherine Heyhoe says, “Bombarding people with more data, facts, and science isn’t the key to convincing others of why climate change matters.” But I hope by capturing some of the beauty that exists here, we will all be mindful of how to protect this beautiful place.

Through my ongoing project, ‘Notes from Sulis Island’, I have discovered areas that I would like to research and work on- for example since acquiring an historical photograph of my local beach, and noticing how little it has changed in the past few hundred years I have also learnt that much of the history of the area has been lost I’d like to explore this and create some new memories.

Could you elaborate on your ongoing series, 'Notes from Sulis Island,' specifically detailing the creative process and the visual and conceptual underpinnings that informed its creation?

‘Notes From Sulis Island’ is an idea that formed after thinking about how we all see places so differently. We all have an idea of a special place, but it’s not the definitive voice or opinion - Sulis Island is a defined area in reality, but isn’t necessarily depicted in a realistic or recognisable manner. As Anais Nin said,  “We don't see things as they are – we see them as we are”.

Sulis Island is a dreamscape, a fairy tale island where I can re-create my little corner of Scilly, without claiming to have created a definitive image of Scilly, it is named after the book by Tove Jansson: ‘Notes from an Island’, due to similarities to her island of Klovharun and mine.

One of the major propellers to your way of working is your wish to minimise your impact on the environment. What sustainable techniques do you use in your practice?

I’m always striving to find ways to minimise my impact on the planet, in all areas of life. Specifically related to photography, it is difficult, but I try to only buy items when I really need to; it is easy to get caught up in wanting more shiny camera equipment!

My swimming equipment/ clothing is generally from companies whose ethics sit well with me, such as B-Corps, for example.

I try to adopt a ‘leave no trace’ philosophy, or better still, ‘leave it better than you found it’ - so taking any rubbish home and supporting beach cleaning charities when possible.  In addition to this, it’s important to learning about marine creatures and respecting their space.

Charities such as the Wildlife Trusts or Friends of the Earth do important work, and I aim to support them when I can.

More broadly, talking about issues that harm the environment and sharing with others is important for us all. Voting for policies for protecting the planet.

And as I mentioned above, learning more about sustainable photographic methods is, of course, part of this.

What advice would you have for artists wanting to be more sustainable? What foundational steps should they consider, and how might they strategically engage with the broader art world in this pursuit?

I would say there is no ‘right’ way to be sustainable, and despite my best efforts, there will always be more I can do. There are contradictions in wanting to create something new, whilst there is already so much’ stuff’ that exists already. Not wanting to add to consumerist culture, whilst also wishing to create and possibly sell artworks, seem very much at odds.

The systems that we live in make this difficult to navigate. I think engaging in and understanding where you can have an impact can help. I set myself strict boundaries on equipment, such as not using film photography until I can develop the film myself using plant-based developer, no acrylic paints, and being careful not to use too much water, as examples.

Trying to limit my consumption means I buy second-hand when I can and use things until they no longer work. I am fortunate to find bits of driftwood at the beach, which can be fun to re-purpose. Reduce, reuse, recycle!

I wanted to print some photographs for an exhibition earlier this year, and it was important to me to find a printing company that shared similar values to mine. They not only offered a good range of recycled papers, but also aim to reduce water usage and use non-toxic chemicals.

There is a wealth of knowledge available, and there are some really inspirational artists developing new techniques and generously sharing their work around the world. I would say research, find other artists who share similar values, experiment, and have fun!

From your perspective, how do art and artistic creation bridge the gap between global societal, environmental and political issues and the general public?

I believe art can act as a means to communicate complicated or emotive ideas, but I don’t know if it can bridge the gap successfully every time. This is a really difficult question, and there are many elements that are required to make this happen.

However, the right piece for the right viewer, at the right time, can be like a magic trick - creating something  - a feeling or a response, from nothing - such as Anish Kapoor’s latest piece, ‘Butchered’.

Whilst I believe everything is political, I wouldn’t wish my work to be seen in a purely political context. I would like to create images that elicit an emotional response. For example, the elemental Firestacks, by Julie Brook, are so inspiring; the work is deeply connected to the elements but also brings to mind folklore and history, a connection to the place, which, in turn, invites us to look to the present.

Art can bring huge issues to a human scale and help us make sense of the world, if we allow ourselves the time and space to reflect.

Katherine Heyhoe has described how it can be more beneficial to not talk about issues in terms of climate change, but by discussing them with a sense of common purpose and of what is fair, which can ignite a passion to protect in anyone.

When Andy Goldsworthy displayed Oak Passage, in the National Gallery of Scotland, (August 2025), people asked how he could cut the branches down to display in a gallery (he didn’t they were wind blown) but as he said, people never ask how a tree could be cut down to create the floor - such a simple but powerful way to encourage us all to think about materials and the natural world.

Finally, what message would you like to leave for our readers?

Thank you for taking the time to read this.

As a developing artist, I am enjoying learning and experimenting with ideas, and this has had a significant impact on my practice and wellbeing.

As Daisy Rickman sings, “she is sewing a quilt of flowers in a black lagoon...” (Signpost to the stars, Howl. 2024). Creating something beautiful when everything looks dark feels like hope and optimism, and I think it’s important to not get lost in despair. I know I can be prone to feeling I can’t do enough, but it’s also important to look around and notice what is around us as well.

“We don’t need a handful of people doing zero waste perfectly. We need millions of people doing it imperfectly. “ (Anne Marie Bonneau, 2019).

• Heyhoe, K. Saving Us: A Climate Scientist’s Case for Hope and Healing in a Divided World. One Signal Pub. 2021.

• Nin, Anais. “Seduction of the Minotaur”. 1961.

Learn more about the artist here.

Cover image

Notes from Sulis Island by Paula Wilkins.

All images courtesy of Paula Wilkins.