About

I don't believe the world is in crisis because nobody understands the problem. Plenty of people understand it. The trouble is that our systems reward the damage and train us to call the result normal. That is the ground I work on: the stories power tells about itself, the costs it hides, and the possibilities it declares impossible. I learned to read those stories through history, international development, environmental law and sustainable finance. History taught me that power edits the archive. Development taught me that domination survives by changing its vocabulary. Law showed me whose knowledge becomes evidence and whose is treated as noise. Finance shows me, daily, how quickly a moral emergency becomes a line item. None of this has made me cynical. It has made me exacting. Systems are made, which means they can be unmade. I care about seeing them clearly because clear sight is where responsibility begins, and because despair is far too convenient for the people already winning.

The living world is where I test everything the official world has taught me. I spent two years gardening, grew vegetables from seed, studied fungi and soil, cooked what the ground gave back, and became obsessed with trees, birds, light and the intelligence of decay. Photography trained me to notice before I named. Astrology gave me another language for pattern and mystery. Gardening taught me that control is mostly theatre. Seeds wait. Fungi make alliances underfoot. A damaged place can recover, but only when its conditions change. I do not look to nature for purity or escape. I look because the living world has been solving problems for far longer than capitalism has been creating them. The lesson I keep returning to is simple: once you learn to pay attention, indifference takes work.

Earthwired is where I bring those educations into the same room. It is a collection of writing, photography and experiments in attention made across the split between authorised knowledge and lived knowledge: the classroom and the garden, the office and the kitchen, peer-reviewed theory and the moment light changes across a field. Unearned sits inside it, examining privilege, internalised capitalism, patriarchy, merit and the professional self from my own compromised position. Alongside it are essays on the more-than-human world, photographs of places where human and other life coexist, and work shaped by seeds, fungi, cooking, astrology and whatever else sharpens the senses. I refuse the choice between intellect and wonder. That split has done enough damage. My practice belongs in the middle ground, where rigorous thought stays porous and the ordinary and the astonishing occupy the same frame. I want a hope that can look straight at the evidence and remain radical. Earthwired is my attempt to make that territory visible.