Darwin Walk; sharkstooth necklace, 7pm 18th Dec

Every time I go to Darwin with my parents I take some time alone to walk along this same route; usually at the beginning and the end of the day.

It is quite a calming walk for me, it quiets and calms my mind when it is buzzing with thoughts, and the more I follow my self- made track, the more emerging natural beauty I see.

When it's dry below foot I often lie down in the long grass and watch the clouds roll by, thinking about life and all it's many possibilities...

Argentine Cemetry; flint, 1pm 18th Dec, drove there accompanied by Mum

I came up here when I was about 14, and for some reason I picked up a piece of flint from the pathway and kept it...

My guess is that it was because I wanted to show some internal acceptance and understanding for the majority of conscripted young Argentine soldiers who died in the 1982 conflict, rather than falling prey to the aminosity that it would be easy to hold when another country tries to invade your own, take your way of life for their own.

I felt it time to put the stone back, give it back and lay to rest past misconceptions of conflict and death, as well as my previous flailing and immature attempts at reconciliation with the crueler ways of the world.

Bodie Creek Bridge; memories of Grandparents, 3:30pm 17th Dec, I drove there accompanied by Mum

Bodie Creek Bridge is a symbol of the past; a crossing no longer used for its original purpose.

You are not supposed to cross... but it is still possible.

My Grandad was a keen fisherman, so the use of the fishing bag I used to protect the objects, and have attached to the underside of the bridge, but the setting of the bridge itself is more to do with my fear of 'the old'... what happens to those we love inevitably, and naturally. I liked the idea that the fishing bag exists, yet could be forgotten... touching lightly on the issue of my Gran's deteoration and eventual death after losing her identity to Alzheimer's disease, something which I have tried not to think about for many years.

My guesture is an attempt to meet that bridge halfway; and to eventually begin the crossing.

Parent's House, Darwin; Sea 2005 plate, Brooch, 1pm 17th Dec

This house is my parent's 'project', and has been since I was 12.

I used to resent the time, money and attention spent on it, as I resented my parent's seeming lack of understanding about me... but in time I have learnt that we were all just trying to find our own way towards comfort in the unfamiliarity of family experience...

Fitzroy Ridge: Brighton shells, Acorn cup and Freeport token, 11:30 AM 17th Dec

Strangely my favourite view at home; on a clear, sunny day you can see out to the seemingly ending horizon in all directions in a panorama of rugged, simplistic beauty.

It is the first and last memorable view that sticks in my mind during the journey to and from the airport... when I arrive home and when I leave home..

Placing the objects I have collected over the years I have spent in the UK here, made a physical mid-way location for a representation of my current mental and geographical displacement.

Estancia Stone run; hand-made notebook... 11am Dec 17th, Driven by Mum.

I chose this particular stone run more for its visual qualities and geographical uncertainty, but I placed the notebook here because I believed that some of my thoughts at a certain (more naive) time of my life would be more "at home" amongst the nooks and crannies of the unpredictable littering of stones. When I was a child I would run across them when the opportunity presented itself... hopping from stone to stone, hoping not to lose my balance and fall...

Once I had gathered sufficient research, and performed several observational experiments, (mostly to test myself, and my reactions to the prospects of deconstructuing or "re-placing" possessions that signified memories) I began to organise my memory box possessions into relatable groups- although this to some extent was self- defeatist within its process of deconstructing habits of collection and hoarding, I had to adhere to a small period of time in which to conduct my site-specific performance pieces, as well as limiting and changeable weather conditions- and chose relevant and meanignful sites and locations in which to "re-place" them. Over a period of one month during my Christmas holiday at home in the Falkland Islands, I conducted my "re-placement" performances... recording them through photography, sketchbook recording and journalistic entry, as well as by witness participation. The more I began to 're-place' my memory box possessions, the more relieved I felt, as if a burden had been stripped from my shoulders; and the more resolute my purpose towards self- reconciliation became. At times I needed others to assist with the transportation or the actual act of 're-placement', at times it was easier to do alone. The effort of preparation, and the mental satisfaction at the completion of the journey and the 'task', made the entire enterprise so vital and relevant to my current vein of artistic practice. I want to come to terms with the self; to look it in the eyes and say, "I don't accept all of you. But I see you, and I understand"...