What is it about paper as a material that keeps you coming back to it?
There is something so simple, but so versatile about paper. It’s a humble material that’s around you all the time, but can be manipulated into a great variety of forms.
Your craft takes real time and care. What does that slower pace bring to your day-to-day work?
You need to be aware of the time things take and allow for it. When you’re layering paper and card, you’re stuck with the drying time of the glue—if you rush, you risk warping the flat pieces. Really, you just need to embrace that pace, work on something else in parallel, or use the time to think. That’s the part that’s most often overlooked: if you’re constantly working flat out, you won’t have the space to think about what comes next.
You studied architecture; how does that background shape your work beyond structural design?
As well as encouraging you to look at buildings with a different focus, you start to understand the connection between the three dimensions and the two dimensions in a natural way. Being able to picture how an object looks as a plan means you can easily visualise how to recreate it from flat pieces.
Where do you get your inspiration from?
Whenever I’m out, I’m looking around for details in the built environment. Much of my work in paper is inspired by architecture and, in the city, that's something that you’re constantly surrounded by if you take the time to stop and look.
Where did the idea for Paperholm come from, and why did you decide to work on such a small scale?
I started Paperholm to keep making something every day after I finished my studies. Using skills I had developed for scale models of university projects, I began crafting small paper structures. Working in plain white paper, I could sit down and finish a piece within a couple of hours. Over the course of three years, I ended up making 1,000 daily additions. It’s a great way to develop your skills – taking a bit of time every day, whether it’s convenient or not.
What is the most challenging aspect of maintaining such a disciplined practice?
When you commit to a daily project, it becomes a responsibility. At its heart, you have to want to do it. Some days you might not have a great idea or much time, but you still have to make something. It’s also important to balance fine-scale work by stepping back; I often complement my small paper models with larger-scale woodwork, which requires far more planning ahead of time. With small-scale paper, I can often just improvise from a sketchy idea.