I was staying at the Hotel du Lac, in Northern Italy. It was a drizzling, misty day; across the lake a flag fluttered in the breeze. Later that day I walked towards the fluttering flag until I reached Switzerland. No sound rang out until I found PING.

On the 29th December we walked to the garage to get milk. The roads were icy, with a light dusting of snow. On the way home I skidded and fell on my back, milk spilling out. I lay there laughing, and there beside me on the R618 Cork/Macroom road, I found a wallet of photographs and a business card: For all your hang-ups...

Daylilies, as their name suggests, flower for a day, but in quick succession, each flower drying and falling into a different, balletic, configuration. The photograms were made by exposing the dried flowers to light under the enlarger, in groups of one or two.

Found in derelict cottage, west of Ireland, 2003. Open at Chapter II: Ireland - its beauty and its sadness. 'There is never but one first impression; all else is second in time and in degree. It is twenty-eight years since I first saw the shores of England and of Ireland, and then they were to me like some celestial country.'

The compost heap as artist and curator. Magazine bought in 2001, discarded in 2002, partly decomposed and retrieved in 2003.  Considered a health hazard and refused public exhibition in 2008. Mongrel it was and mongrel it remains.