Homelessness Reframed: Saatchi Gallery
Presented in partnership with The Royal Foundation and Saatchi Gallery
In “Homelessness Reframed,” I presented Home 2013, a deeply personal piece made from a Peugeot 206 in the shape of a house. The piece was a powerful reflection of the countless individuals who sleep in their cars, something I know firsthand as the car used to build it was the same one I once lived in during my time experiencing homelessness. Constructing this piece was emotionally challenging, as it triggered past trauma, but it was a necessary process to give voice to those who are often unseen in society.
The show was not only an opportunity to showcase the harsh realities of homelessness but also a space where conversations around social justice were amplified. As part of the exhibition, I had the privilege of serving as one of the main advisors to Prince William, the future King of England, contributing to discussions that directly impacted social change. The six-week exhibition attracted over 47,000 visitors, making it one of the largest crowds in Saatchi Gallery’s history. This is what I call the true power of art—the ability to bring attention to pressing social issues and create a lasting impact.
Man on Bench: A Reflection on Identity and Loneliness
“Man on Bench” is a performance piece that speaks to the isolation and the often-overlooked emotional landscapes of our public spaces. The piece itself revolves around a simple yet powerful interaction: a man, seated alone on a park bench, caught in the quiet stillness of his own thoughts. It is in this stillness that we find the rawness of human vulnerability—those moments we often avoid acknowledging in our busy, fast-paced world.
Through this work, I wanted to explore the ways in which we, as individuals, navigate our relationship with loneliness, identity, and the invisible battles we face. The bench, a seemingly ordinary object, becomes a metaphor for societal disconnect, as people pass by without ever truly noticing. The work invited viewers to pause and reflect on the human stories behind the facelessness of the urban environment, to recognize the loneliness that exists in plain sight but remains unseen.
The reason I chose the name “Man on Bench” is deeply personal. At my lowest point in life, a man on a bench stopped when I felt invisible and lost. He saved my life, offering a simple act of kindness that became my turning point. This project is my way of saying thank you—though I know that “thank you” will never feel big enough. By naming the project after him, I’m honoring the profound impact he had on me and others who’ve faced similar moments of darkness.
Gavin! The man who saved my life.
The Unknown Soldier & An Identity Tied to Conflict: Honoring the Past, Shaping the Future
Both The Unknown Soldier and An Identity Tied to Conflict are deeply personal works that explore the lasting impact of military service, memory, and the complexities of identity. These pieces reflect the often unseen emotional battles faced by veterans, particularly those who have been marginalized or forgotten in the broader narrative of war. They are a way of remembering those whose stories are too often overlooked, and of honoring the silent strength of those who serve.
The Unknown Soldier speaks to the struggle of returning home after war, the inner conflict of reconciling who we were before, and who we are after. It is about the loss of self that can come with conflict—the part of you that is left behind in the chaos of battle, while your body returns home, but your soul remains scarred. This work isn’t just about the sacrifices of soldiers; it’s about the quiet, invisible battles that many face long after they leave the front lines. It challenges the viewer to reflect on their own understanding of service, sacrifice, and what it means to truly come home.
An Identity Tied to Conflict takes a broader view, bringing together veterans from various conflicts—Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan, the Falklands—along with a few LGBT+ soldiers who have their own unique struggles and stories to tell. This project was born out of a desire to create a space for these veterans to come together, share their experiences, and reflect on what it means to serve while carrying the weight of conflict and identity. With the help of Path of Art in Seattle, I created an online space that allowed these veterans to connect, speak their truths, and find solidarity. The vulnerability shared in that space was both heartbreaking and healing.
The work evolved into a powerful sound installation, co-created with Laima Leyton in London. This sound piece became a testament to the strength, pain, and resilience of those who served in wars—some of whom had never felt they were truly seen. The piece was not just a reflection of their stories; it became their voices, amplified and heard in ways they had never experienced before. For me, this is one of the most impactful pieces I’ve ever created, as it holds within it the collective weight of the stories shared by veterans who were finally given the space to be heard.
Winning the VA PSHCS Art Competition in the U.S. was a humbling recognition of the power art can have in sparking dialogue and creating empathy. This work has shown me that, through art, we can bring the hidden stories of our veterans into the light. These stories, which have been overshadowed by time and the stigma of war, deserve to be remembered, celebrated, and honored.
These works are about healing. They are about recognition. And, above all, they are about making sure that no veteran, no matter their background or experience, is ever forgotten.
Daily Paintings: Just Me, My Pen, and My Thoughts
While the big, flashy projects are the ones that get the attention, it’s the little, daily paintings and drawings that truly keep me grounded. These aren’t the pieces that make headlines, but they’re the ones that make my soul smile. Whether it’s a sketch on a napkin or a quick splash of paint, it’s my time to just create without thinking too much. No pressure, no expectation—just me and my art doing a little dance together.
And here’s the thing: not every piece has to be a world-changing masterpiece. Sometimes, it’s the small, quirky works that carry the most weight. You know, those little moments where I get to laugh at myself, experiment, or just doodle something ridiculous. Not every painting has to be a statement, and not every drawing has to fix society’s problems. Sometimes, art is just about enjoying the process, splashing some color on a canvas, and saying, “Hey, this made me happy today.” It’s about remembering that, yes, we’re all here to make a mark on the world, but sometimes that mark is just a doodle of a cat wearing a top hat—and that’s perfectly okay.
