Upon meeting, it is clear that Adam Waymouth isn't afraid to identify himself as a collaborator, someone who enjoys the exchange of conversation and the tangents that two minds can make. Having spent numerous years working alongside artists and galleries - including co-curating London-based project space 20 Hoxton Square - he has more recently begun to pick up the baton of his own practice, reanimating plans that had sat dormant in sketchbooks and boxes since his art school studies.
With a keen interest in the botanical, he draws influence from artists such as Karl Blossfeldt, who famously collected and redefined nature through the photographic process. These off-cut natural traces are similarly present within Waymouth's work, with one example described as a sculpted ceramic horn exquisitely and uniquely marked in its finish. As with Blossfeldt's lens-bound transformation, this particular work also focuses of a transformative act, with the marks created by a traditional Japanese Raku process: where a ceramic is placed in a combustible material following its firing.
The delicate alchemy of process is of utmost importance to Waymouth, in the way that the artefact or image offers up the clues of its making, telling its story so to speak. He doesn't aspire to create flawless studio representations, instead focussing of how the uncontrollable slippage of the elements are captured to bear witness to a historical moment. He displays this rather specifically in a series of works made whilst teaching at a school in Egypt, taking form from the withering palm leaves that he collected in his local surroundings. Just as the Raku technique offered haphazard marks for a sculpture, he chose to photograph these leaves, recognising that they offered up their own naturally occurring abstractions.
Following initial trials, Waymouth was also quick to realise he would need to create an environment to light these images, and despite the modesty of a temporary apartment, he chose to paint the building's roof a bright white, using the intensity of the Sun's reflection to light his subjects, their shadows gradually altering throughout the progress of the day. This precise negotiation of a present moment becomes folded into his editing process, whereby he elects to leave traditionally unwanted details as a happy accident - such as the join between two sheets of backdrop paper - offering us a sense of space instead of the perfection of a blank white void.