Christopher is a maker working with materials the way other people work with words.

Christopher has spent decades building a practice with paint, wood, surface, texture, and chance — these are his vocabulary. He doesn’t just create images or objects; he builds moments that feel like they’ve been lived in before they even existed.

There’s often a sense of memory in his work, even when the scene is imagined — as if something half-remembered has been pulled into the present and fixed in place.

His process is instinctive rather than tidy. He doesn’t arrive with a plan so much as he arrives with a feeling, and he follows it until it turns into form. Some pieces come out fast, almost like they were waiting for him. Others resist, shift, or break apart before they settle into something honest.

What ties everything together is attention — to colour, to awkward beauty, to the small emotional weather inside everyday life. A figure, a place, a strange stillness in a face or a background: he notices what others pass over.

Christopher has built a practice that doesn’t separate thinking from making. It’s all one thing. He’s not trying to explain the world. He’s trying to stay close enough to it that it leaves marks.

And that’s where the work lives.