This work began when I acquired a malfunctioning electric typewriter which scrambles every key into a different letter. I interpreted its glitchy layout and wrote fragmented, hesitant lines of poetry directly onto found printed material.

Using pages from the divine Bolia New Collection catalogue, I composed texts that drift around ideas of perfection, longing, and the quiet grief of unattainable cohesion. A shambolic meditation on what slips through the frame

When held to the light, each page reveals faint impressions from the reverse: Sofas wash up on shorelines. Staged interiors dissolve into the sea. A tree bursts through the window. The image shifts depending on how it is seen.

Afterwards, the works were folded up and released into circulation via a vending machine, sold for 50p.

They’re still out there somewhere.