This body of work follows On Foot, a show about trying to capture the world as I experience it on my walks. In contrast, Inside Out feels like returning from those walks, pulling off my boots and beginning the familiar procession of taking off, putting down, switching on that marks the transition from being out there to being in here. Settling into my homebody: a body at rest, a body preparing for a new project, carrying expectations, making coffee in the middle of the day. A body that wants to paint but there are breakfast dishes on the table and spaghetti stuck to the pot from the night before.

At the many tables – for eating, working, gathering, or simply for putting things down – people are dining or dispersing, preparing for company, or clearing up, enjoying the outdoors or anticipating going home. These surfaces reflect our outside or inside lives by what’s placed upon them and who is invited around: who sees the table set gloriously in the garden, and who sees the coffee table at the end of a long week, or the unexpected still life of life stuff in the glow of a salt lamp on the bedside table.

From the inside, the many windows frame the world beckoning from beyond the glass. From the outside, they frame the inner lives playing out, but only in silent snippets. There are portholes, sliding doors and balconies: inside/outside. The views become paintings. In lieu of painting, the starlings on the windowsill watch me wash the spaghetti pot.

Curtains are draped, sometimes barely there, swishing between hiding and revealing to suggest the border between inside and out, private and public, and the shifts required to cross the threshold.

Edited by Alix-Rose Cowie