Sam is an audio-visual artist originally from Huddersfield, and based in Liverpool since 2001. He moves between videography, live projection, interactive design, and the collective mapping of ideas and memories. Since 2005, he has collaborated with a number of artists, musicians, communities and organisations to create events, AV performances, theatre shows, short films and interactive installations. He is also a co-director of Re-Docka, co-caretaker of the Swan Pedalo. In 2008, Sam created A Small Cinema, a short film event in the guise of a traditional cinema, informed by research and discussion with local people. In 2010, he undertook a residency with the North West Film Archive to create a 20 minute film for live performance. ‘Noah’s Ark’ was developed in collaboration with poet Nathan Jones (Mercy) and musician Carl Brown (Wave Machines), using only archive film to re-tell the biblical story.
How do you describe yourself as an artist?
A jack of all trades, and a master of the in-between.
Which place within the North Of England is particularly special for you?
Emley Moor television mast.
And what does it conjure up in your imagination?
A huge concrete beacon, the mast is the tallest freestanding thing in the UK. My dad used to tell me the original mast was made of wood and fell down in a terrible storm, though that sounds like the Three Little Pigs. The current structure is an amazing example of structural engineering and 60s utopianism – it looks like a space needle. I have sometimes wondered what will happen to it as analogue communication is phased out. Will the tower function as a digital beacon? Or is will it be a redundant architecture? If that were the case, then I would rather keep it as a grave marker to analogue technology than see it demolished. I’ve been up it once, and I’ve stood at the bottom and looked up to see it wobble, and I used to pass it everyday on the milkround, but for me it is most special as a point of geography on the landscape. Being three miles from my village, it’s appearance on the horizon marks home, though it seems to have the uncanny ability to follow you for miles when you try to leave, peering from behind hills just when you think you’ve lost it. Growing up I was always fascinated by the thought, that as a major communication point, it would be a key target in a nuclear attack, and that we would be one of the first in the country to go.