Glynn Griffiths

For many years I was a photojournalist. There is little I do now as an artist which cannot in some way connect with my previous experiences. They’re like the contents of a backpack that I can’t shrug off - they’ve grown into being nothing more than a part of who I am.

In 2008 I was accepted as a mature student into art college. Being exposed to this new language with its complex vocabulary was as liberating as it was daunting.

I have a stone-age tool that I picked up as a young boy whilst walking in the veld of my native South Africa. It is a very tangible connection with the earliest of examples of a hard material having been shaped by a human to create a physical object. It has an emotive, simple beauty that is as compelling as it is comforting. Despite making several enquiries I have been unable to ascertain with certainty whether it is a tool for a specific purpose, some form of self-expression, or merely the result of idle curiosity. But to hold it and feel its weight, to rub its shaped and weathered surface and try and sense its past, one cannot but feel that there is a story locked within trying to reach out and talk to us.

As a marker of time, the materials we have used as humans is a chart of our development; fr...