Initially, when trying to imagine myself in the non-human world, I imagined myself dead. I mean this in the least morbid way possible, but it got me thinking of my funeral – and I imagined all of the non-human entities that come to be me; always eating the fruit slices out of their drinks. And when discussing or reimagining my relationship with the non-human world and what it meant to me to be alive, I found it to be larger than the lemon peel I leave on the kitchen worktop.

I had a conversation with my friend, Fin, where he further explained the relationship between human and non-human worlds and the idea that humans seem to see themselves in the middle of both, which cannot be true. His work itself is of graphite rubbings of surfaces, trying to uncover histories and narratives that aren’t immediately apparent when I look at them alone – applying stories and sentiment to their non-human existences – collecting tracings of his environment and how it interacts and inspires him, personifying non-human entities. I found the idea of personification and narrative fascinating, as it led me to reimagine the way I involve myself with the things that seem to reflect aspects of my own personality. 

I felt I had to question who I was to claim non-human existence. Such as the fruit I came to love as a part of my own character; something that should remind people of me.

Without setting out with the intention of forming this relationship, by painting this picture of those worlds intertwined, it was something that came to be. I think that if I were to reimagine my relationship with the non-human world, I would highlight the importance of not claiming it to be my own. Maybe the non-human world has had more of an impact on me than I did on them – regardless of applied meaning.