After decades of gallery representation, since 2019 artworks by my hand are now exclusively available direct from the Studio.

This is a complex and painful issue for me to discuss, but after many years of gallery, dealer, and arts advisor collaborations, in 2019 I decided to withdraw from all external representation; instead electing to regain control of my schedule, pricing, inventory, consignments, press, projects, and generally how my work is seen by the outside world.

‘Morpho Amathonto 0220’ from the ‘Swarm’ series, dated 2011.
Edition of 10, 63 × 63 inches / 160 × 160 cm — SOLD OUT.
Provenance: ‘The House of the Nobleman’ (2011, London); ‘A Beautiful Announcement of Death’ (2012, PA & G Gallery, London); ‘Death of the Dream’ (2017, Dellasposa Gallery, London).

This is my personal view, so take it with a pinch of salt.

“I no longer have respect for the gallery collector; they are too heavily enthused with the intellectual prostitution and the circle of institutions feeding upon it. The big gallery system has clearly become dysfunctional. The only worthy provenance for a collector is that of direct contact with the artist and their studio.”

For any collector just starting out—or those with an already well-structured collection—visiting gallery exhibitions and art fairs has always been said to be an important way to tune your eye. But in a digital age, we are able to do that in private. It is important to remember that the artist behind these glossy gallery spaces is, and always should be, the central dialogue.

Most true artists explore their process through a lifelong journey—a cruel obsession of love, fear, and torment. I am an artist not because I failed at something else, but because there is nothing else. Many artists suffer greatly for their creations, working long and solitary hours, often negating even basic care so that all energy, emotion, and revenue are directed toward the work. Please remember this when you encounter the well-choreographed, candle-lit “sale room.”

Over 90% of gallery-represented artists receive around 50% of sales revenue in a best-case scenario—meaning the price you pay is often more than double what ever reaches the artist.

If you are buying an artwork, I hope the artist’s journey and message add emotional value to your acquisition. Knowing the story behind its creation allows the collector to feel involved in a continuing legacy.

In theory, a gallery should support and nurture an artist’s practice—bringing work to wider attention through exhibitions, fairs, and media dialogue. Over the years, this has not been my experience.

I have encountered broken promises, deals made without consent, works used in media without moral rights acknowledged, and artworks returned in poor condition after consignments. Large-format, museum-framed photographic works are expensive to produce and fragile to transport. To see them returned damaged after careless handling is, to me, unacceptable.

Wrapped works returned to the studio after a long consignment; of nine works loaned, five returned with serious damage.

One particular episode in 2015 involved Halcyon Gallery requesting key works for their Bond Street gallery. After prolonged discussions, delays, and restrictive contractual terms—including a proposed 35% artist share and control over all output—I walked away. While flattering, remaining at the table was dismantling everything I had built.

By 2019 I severed all gallery and dealer ties. Internally, this was a violent decision—to step away from what was known and toward what was possible. Five years on, the studio continues to produce new bodies of work, with fewer distractions and a clearer trajectory.

Since that time, the studio has initiated and curated significant projects, including Dark Vat in Siberia, a three-month residency fostering young artists in a disused photographic paper factory, and Renaciendo, reopening the abandoned Carmelite convent north of Madrid for a large-scale public exhibition.

Resident artist Inna Schestakova inside the Dark Vat black-water holographic reflection pool installation.

Installation view of ‘Renaciendo’.

In 2021, I opened the first carbon-neutral plastic and aluminium recycling studio in the Maldives, Makers Place, addressing single-use waste in island nations. Further sites are planned.

The organic, mushroom-inspired architecture of the Makers Place recycling studio.

All of these projects were handled internally, without gallery or institutional support. Despite this, they received strong public engagement and media coverage. Scarcity, direct involvement, and provenance now define both my practice and its legacy.

‘Zero Screw’ lighting rig at Iset Tower, Yekaterinburg, in collaboration with the British Trade Council.

This independence allows me to work outside conventional architectural and institutional frameworks, engaging directly with landscapes, civic spaces, and communities. It has also enabled a sustained focus on education, sustainability, and long-term projects of value.

I welcome hearing from collectors and artists about your own experiences. Were you ever tempted to go it alone? Do you prefer the gallery path?

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”