I started making houses for ants because I thought they needed somewhere to live. Then I made them shoes and hats. It was a fantasy world I escaped to where my dyslexia didn't hold me back and my teachers couldn't criticize me. That's how my career as a micro-sculptor began.
When I was a kid, I had trouble at school because of my learning disabilities. Carving is my body compensating for the lack of other skills.
My teacher said my brain was the size of a pea. He made my life miserable by singling me out in the classroom as a failure.
As a kid, I lived in a fantasy world. I used to believe ants could talk. Not once did they say thank you.
I became obsessed with making more and more tiny things. I think I was trying to find a way of compensating for my embarrassment at having learning difficulties: people had made me feel small so I wanted to show them how significant 'small' could be.
At home, when the heating pipes made noises, I imagined a tiny person was in there skipping with a rope. The fantasy world of tiny things became my escape.
I heard someone say that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than a rich man to get into heaven. I decided to sculpt camels in a needle.
When you work at a microscopic level, you have to control every part of your body movement - your fingertips, your joints, the pulse in your fingers.
I was told I would become nothing. Now I am showing people how big nothing is.
There are times when I've inhaled my work. There are artworks still inside of me.
Flying helicopters is what I do for fun.
I always say that failure was my friend. I learned nothing at school, so I just lived in my own world.
At school I'd want to be so small that nobody could see me, and so my work depicts and reflects me - what it felt like to grow up in a world of pain.
I'm just honoring my mother's words. She always told me, 'The smaller your work, the bigger your name will become.'
I'm like a mad professor, but without the spiky hair.
For un-subscribe please check the mail footer.