In my final year of my fine art course I made artist’s books, I love the way the artist’s book is more of an intimate conversation with the viewer. To pick up a book and open it is more decisive than a glance across the room, and to look though a book is still a solitary pursuit, so it is more one to one, me to you.

For my degree show I made 50 books, each unique and quite disparate in just about every way except that each was a book. The title of the show was “you can’t judge a book by its cover”. This referred not only to the old saying warning about objectifying others, but literally, to the discrepancy between the books content and its jacket.

One book I covered in black rubber and barbed with 1 inch tacks, it looks lethal and is certainly not a book to casually flick through, but though hazardous to handle, contains nothing more troubling than monoprints. Another book looked innocent, but had a primed mousetrap waiting for the unsuspecting viewer (rendered safe, naturally).

In my hunt through old files and my cataloguing of all the artwork I still have to hand I have discovered some old images from the degree show and a later show at the Saltburn Gallery where I exhibited these books. I have also found some blank notebooks and sketchbooks all ready for use and will be creating some new books very soon.