The artist - The men I grew up around were either tradesman or worked in jobs that would be recognised as traditionally working-class. I remember my dad coming home from work, he was a double-glazing fabricator at the time. He was wearing his leather forearm protectors and I thought he looked like a gladiator. For me, tools were coded with strength and masculinity. Equally, it was made clear to me that these were risky, dangerous. I was never sure if they were for me or not or if I would grow up to be the kind of man who instinctively knew how to use them. After finishing school I joined my dad in the factory, working alongside him for 10 hours a day. It was hard, physical work. After this I went to university and then eventually into a creative profession where tools became things I stopped using. I became nervous of them, afraid I wouldn’t be able to use them, would mess it up.
Last year, my dad came to visit and brought me all of his tools. The hand tools were all piled in a bucket and the electrical tools wrapped in rags. They don’t have the same emotional connection for my dad that they do for me. The main reason he brought them was that he didn’t have room for them anymore and my girlfriend and I had also recently bought a house. For me though, this was an acceptance into his world, of being capable of using them, of being trusted and maybe even encouraged.
These images are as much a portrait of my dad as they are of tools. Through elevating them I also want to elevate the men I knew and know, working class men, men like my dad, who deserve to be looked at and praised.