The tree branches reached towards the sky with their long spindly fingers. Flowers pushed their way out of the damp, dark soil, daisies grew in the grass. In autumn the air smelt of burning leaves on bonfires, by winter the garden of house number 151 was barren. It was a small but magical place where my imagination ran free; the playground of my childhood where I made perfume from crushed rose petals and rode an imaginary horse.

Many years have passed since I left home, but otherworldly memories of those halcyon days still linger. Working with vintage snapshots of myself and my parents’ taken in the garden my project One-Five-One explores the passage of time, the cyclical nature of life and reimagines those enchanted moments from my past.