 Thank you so much to Lucy and Holly. I'm really pleased to be able to share some of my work here today. I'm going to talk about three works and share this at the end, which is in the middle of being made, but this is the work that last week we were filming up the coast of it, and thankfully the weather wasn't like it was today. So there's a trilogy of works, a book and photographs, and then this. So this book and this reproduction was published in September of last year, and the five chapters of the book metaphorically chart the journey of trying to get pregnant. The photographs featured in enlistry production were made using a piece of kit called Trigger Smart. It's a bit of photographic equipment that automatically fires the shutter when an infrared beam is broken by movement, so they use it a lot in wildlife photography, or if sound and light levels change. In enlistry production, birds document the human nest, apples photograph themselves falling up trees, bulls hanging clusters in front of our vision, and futile and wrong-headed experiments flash intermittently in the dark. There are texts that go with the beginning of each chapter and this from the epigraph. Two years ago, when I looked at all the images together, I saw how they unconsciously mirrored the stages of trying to conceive, beginning with relying on nature, then living by a 28-day calendar, being assisted by drugs and monitoring, and then increasingly random trying before eventual defeat. I guess like Lucy, I was making work, but not consciously making work. I was taking photographs all the time that I was going through IVF and trying to get pregnant and thought it was my practice but didn't really know quite what to do with it. About 10 years after I first started taking them, I made this book. Chapter 1, Nature. I set up the infrared beam, linked the boxes to the camera, and placed seed on the perch, birds land. They break the beam and photograph the inside of the room. I'm in there with my camera and photograph them as they unknowingly photograph me. I leave the room and the birds continue to photograph. The images without me are better. I look tired and fragile. The idea that people have been in the bed is better than how the reality looks in a photograph. This one, Chapter 2, Timing. Seven years later, from a friend's fundraiser in Cornwall, I choose one of the photographs taken incidentally as part of testing the kit. In the photograph I am placing the equipment in a tree. It looks very Adam and Eve, the apples and the angle of the arm, mimicking a snake as it moves diagonally across the image towards the apple. There's nature here and an intention to interfere with it. In these images I was making, in homes, in the kitchen, in living rooms and bedrooms, I eventually saw something that made sense, the shadow. The detail of an object is lost as the flash blasts out the scene, but the shadow of a falling ball gives depth to the image, revealing the creases in the sheet, the folds and the curves that delineate the valleys of grey. I commissioned a text from an Italian curator Paola Paleri when I showed the book and images from the last summer photographic series that she'll come to next to go with an exhibition at Grey's Wharf in Penryn late last year, and she wrote, I'm rather talking about a certain grace filling the empty spaces, which is almost as rare and volatile as the void itself. The next body of work is called Last Summer, which picture scenes outside my direct experience through something that is. Photographs of families with young children are approached through a love of the sea. This series of photographs began on North Island, New Zealand, this was the first photograph that I took, and afterwards I realised it was the first time in a long time that I'd been able to look long enough to compose a photograph, rather than look away from a scene that I could not construct in my own life. So there's something about the beauty of the scene and how this grouping were arranging themselves that I felt drawn to, kind of almost like a theatrical kind of performance that felt like it was there for me and my camera, and I felt a closeness and a desire to want to capture it, which felt quite different from how the position I'd been in previously. I'll just share a couple of other images from the series which is ongoing. So this was taken at New Train Bay, which is very close to Trevon Bay a couple of years ago, and they kind of were like that. I said, can I take your photograph? And they were like, yes. And they instantly went, ping, into camera, ready. I mean, this woman here in the middle, she's amazing in her strapliff swimsuit. So yeah, I feel like they've done this before. And the next one, which is in the same location, and I sort of tend to spend quite a lot of time there in and out of the water trying to look, I mean trying to look obvious that I'm taking photographs of people who can ask questions. And these days I either directly approach people afterwards or before and give them my contact details and that kind of thing and check that it's okay. But there is quite a lot of just hanging around. And as it turned out, so this site, the last two photographs, is where we have just filmed last weekend for the work that I'm going to talk about next. And this is an install shot from the exhibition mentioned previously. So there's a great show, We Are Floating in Space, across Newland Gallery and The Exchange in Penzance, which is on until the 1st of June. Yeah, loads of works by artists who work in the region, either directly making things from materials in the coast or kind of using it as a way of expressing kind of internal states and emotions. And I want to say, of course, an enormous thank you to Bettina Wenzell who's in the audience today who's been supporting making the work. And it was through an invitation from Newland and The Exchange that I put an Arts Council grant in, which we heard that we got in January, and then this piece of work has been made. But I'll see it a little bit more afterwards. The title of the work is taken from a quote from Barbara Hepworth, as Cheria mentioned earlier, and the whole quote, which is from a Hepworth-on-Form film made in 1968, incidentally, the year I was born. The moon rises over water, and the sun rises over water. The sun rises over water, and the sun rises over water, and the sun rises over water, and the sun rises over water, and the sun rises over water, and the sun rises over water, and they both set over the water. I have enjoyed every morning. I've wakened up and been grateful for the next dawn, the next spring. So briefly just to outline the project. So I've met with women only four times, so we formed a group very quickly. We had a gathering session, which was supported by Yvonne John from Gateway Network for Childless Women, Women Here Childless Not by Choice. We worked with Claire Ingleheart, an amazing choir leader and composer, and she took away words from the women that they wanted to write in relation to expressing their experience, and made us three beautiful songs, which we sang last week at Duskin at Dawn, at the site that you see there. We were in beautiful costumes, as you can tell, which were made by Victoria Robinson, who's in the audience and was also in the performance, and her mum Pam, which was really a fantastic experience. I have been supported by Jodie Day, and I will go and speak later on about the project as a whole. I would say that I was blown away by the experience of putting a call out for women, and I didn't know any of them, and they didn't know each other, and ages probably range from early 30s to late 60s. Everyone was incredibly generous about taking part in the performance, and I think what I am realising now is that there's an enormous difference between what we felt in the moment and how it might come to be as a film, and I think looking at Holly's work, which I feel so directly, the last video work that you shared, it's like being able to achieve something of honour what it was to be there. This was our amazing crew. I've never worked with a crew before. It's brilliant. This is Neil Magor from the top left, Jasper Hignet, Neil Rose, Rachel Clearburton, Albon Renard, Jamie Coopland, Rachel Jones and Fran Rose, and then a group of 12 women sang in the morning and at night, and we sang our three songs repeatedly for the camera, and then for us alone, without the crew, holding hands and looking at each other and stood in a circle at the edge of a rock pool. The idea for the workshops in the film was to draw on the strength of being in the company of others, and I see this as the final part of the trilogy, ushering in the potential for joy. Thank you.