I suddenly just stopped one day and looked around. I had gone off track. I felt that we all had gone off track. I was not prepared to admit that I sat still so far away from the world I thought we had created. The gravity around us had become too great, its tremendous force causing a fracture through which light and an unspeakable freedom began to pour.

No longer bound by the walls of the machine, we slipped through that crack; it was the only way to break free. We all talked about doing things differently, but the forces against us were crushing. They were winning and we all knew it. So we turned away from the grinding machinations of what they wanted the world to be and recreated it in our own image, in the way that we saw the world, the world that we wanted. We had become heretics. We had to find each other. The only way to find each other was to lose everyone else.

Out of the internal unrest a city was born; its name is Heretic City.

On its streets and built within its bricks are the stories of tragedy, love, lust, hate and hopeless romance. She is relentless and unforgiving.

Behind the sketches lay a world brought to life through the lense of heartbreak and madness. The ominous weight and sharp focus give life to the pain, mayhem and calamity seething beneath her streets.