I always get a surprise when I cut into a pomegranate and see its densely packed red fruits, just not what you expect from looking at its skin. When the fruit has been picked out, what you get is an abandoned honeycomb, all delicate, ragged cavities and the hint of more beneath. I wanted to capture the fragility and mystery of the fruit in this state.
I wasn't sure if half a pomegranate - with some of the fruit remaining - would work as a mould, given that the fruit's juices could cause havoc with the melted rubber. In the process, there were a few excitable bubbles, but I got a recognisable cast of the fruit's interior.
Plaster of Paris, PVA
My experiments with moulds and aromas led to one of those 'happy accidents' that informed much of my work in the Breaking Bud series. Here, the egg shape is a symbol of life, with its contents just breaking through, displaying that crucial moment of tension; while the spices add visual and olfactory dimensions.
Recreating accidents is tricky - when you try too hard, you often end up with something contrived, so the production process became a fine balance of careful pouring and relaxed mixing to ensure that the end result was neither too perfect nor a disaster.
Plaster of Paris, PVA, herbs, spices, essential oils, egg box, gesso
The Breaking Bud phenomenon is about the big reveal: you might have an idea of what you're about to see, but you just never know exactly what you'll get.
By putting the split in Banana Split, it's not just a play on words, but also a visual tease - there's something underneath that could be the soft fruit to be consumed, but by it's very substance - plaster - it shouldn't be eaten. So is it a fruit?
Plaster of Paris, PVA
When the outer layer is a wrinkled, see-through plastic bag, could you guess that the inner space is smooth, heavy and fragile?
Plaster of Paris, PVA
The next stage from Packet, the semi-set plaster is squeezed to create tension from the resulting forms, colours and semi-hidden objects.
Plaster of Paris, PVA, twigs