I was never going to be an artist. I wanted to be a writer. But all the evidence points to the opposite. I lived in Melbourne and went to galleries, I travelled to Europe and visited the great art galleries, I hung out at the NGA in Canberra and pranked works in the gallery (before Banksy and surveillance cameras), I made elaborate installations at climbing areas when I got bored, I worked as a Security Guard at the NGV on St Kilda Road, and late at night would pull out everything from the collection and look at it, after this, I travelled to Thailand and made Alexander Caldwell inspired mobiles on beaches out of bamboo and beach twine… but had no pretentions of being a visual artist. And then in Natimuk, I started making little works for groups shows, larger things for the big silo shows, and I even started pranking my own festival, with guerilla work. I started work for the Horsham Rural City Council managing their public art program, and started a Masters in Art in Public Space through RMIT.
And finally I had to admit. I was also a visual and conceptual artist.
​It was not until I was in Berlin in 2014 and I saw a massive Martin Kippenberger retrospective that I could see how it all fitted together. This show gave my disparate oeuvre some framework with which it could be understood.