I write from my typewriter every Friday on Substack, sharing 3 recommendations of art that you should be paying attention to.
I invite a guest to share their 3 picks every Tuesday too.
I share photos and things on Instagram.
If you want to know more about me, I wrote an interview with myself for IMI that you can read here.
BILLION (bilien).
Friday 6th February 2026
BILLION is an 8-minute short film shot in Cornwall that explores the art of noticing beauty in mundanity, and finding fulfillment in seeing the world through young eyes. You can see it here.
It’s a strange thing to make art.
You can set out with a clear(ish) direction in mind, but sometimes the force that guides you (?) has a different idea.
The more you stay attuned to what the piece will ultimately be, and what it wants to become, the more mouldable and adaptable you have to be.
I had my own vision when I set out for what this video would be. It was going to be a video about noticing the small things. Specifically: pebbles. Noticing them everywhere and admiring them for their simple, natural beauty. I had a (pretty bad) script written and recorded as a voiceover (I recorded it at the bottom of my garden on my airpods, envelloped in birdsong).
When it came time to soundtrack the film I was searching through a playlist I’ve created of songs that would make for great soundtracks I re-stumbled across Kitty. Though it’s Irish, it felt rooted in heritage and history. In that same kind of Cornish way. And it fit perfectly, so I began to cut the film around it.
I was struggling to fit my voiceover into the pauses in the song’s lyrics, when it quickly became obvious that my own stuttering words were taking away from the beauty and the space that John’s lyrics inhabit. So I scrapped my voiceover—and my plans for the film altogether, and let it become something other. Something far more abstract and open for interpretation. But I think something ultimately more interesting, and beautiful as a piece of art.
As a proud Cornishman, one thing that has always bugged me is when people try and showcase this beautiful county as if it is bathed in year-long-sunshine. What a load of rubbish. All that kind of imagery does is further push Cornwall as this ‘idylic holiday destination’--rather than existing as its own place with its own identity and authenticity.
My Cornwall is one that is often wet and windy--and there is innate beauty in that.
When I set out to shoot BILLION I actually chose a day where the weather forecast was looking pretty wild. It was bitingly cold, and snowing in the morning. I was umming and ahhing about going out to shoot.
I said ‘screw it’ and went for it — because it hardly ever snows here. And you have to make the most of these things. It was bitterly cold. My hands went completely numb and I got absolutely soaked to the bone. I warmed myself by the fire in a coffee shop in the same town, which was lovely. I chatted with the owner as I sipped my coffee and ate some orange cake.
The second shoot day was with Afie, my boy. Our parents weren’t able to help look after him that day, so I took the day off work and had him to myself the whole day. We went out to the same town, just days after I’d been previously on my own. Similarly, it was soaking wet. No snow this time though. We spent a lot of time watching the workmen with their diggers, cranes and hammers. Afie was absolutely transfixed. He was telling me about the building work they’re doing and how they’ go bang bang’ with their hammers.
We headed down to the beach but didn’t stay long, as it was wet and windy down there. We sheltered a couple of times in the tunnel. That’s when I got the shot of the lock (it felt important, somehow).
Then we headed back up to that same cafe (not as relaxing a time, when you’re trying to entertain a 2-year-old) before heading to the park. We played football in the park for about 30 minutes before heading home for nap time. It was a lovely day. And I think in capturing elements of it you can sense the authenticity of the scene - taking a toddler out, despite the weather, and seeing the world through their eyes.
The Cornish word for a single pebble is bilien (feminine noun, plural bili). It is used to describe a small, smooth, water-worn stone.
Singular: Bilien (a pebble)
Plural: Bili (pebbles/shingle)
I started a kind of impromptu pebble collection in 2020. COVID was spreading and a lockdown was looming. The day before we were plunged into the confines of our homes, Molly and I went out to a nearby beach - to make the most of some time outdoors before they were shut and locked. On this trip I was sat reading and I picked up a small pebble and started fiddling with it in my hand. I ended up taking it home and fidgeting with it often.
As anxiety began to grip me I found relief in keeping my hands busy, and even more so—using something connected to the outdoors, that made me feel connected with God, the one who created it—and me. I still have that pebble today (see below). Along with many more that I periodically swap out and play with. I always keep one in my pocket at all times. As a bit of an ancient fidget toy, but also as a beautiful thing to have and to hold.
The title also refers somewhat tangentily to Bon Iver’s 00000 Million, which includes the lines
What a river don’t know is to climb out and heed a line
To slow among roses or stay behind
(GENIUS)
‘A flowing river isn’t able to climb out of its bed and literally “heed the line” to “slow down and smell the roses.” When you’re moving full speed ahead, it’s hard to realize all the things you’re missing along the way.’
I’ve always loved the poetry of that line.
So much so that I got a rose tattoo’d on my wrist as a personal reminder to stop and notice the beautiful things in life that I’m missing by moving at too fast a speed.
My son has helped me to see the world differently. To slow among roses.
And that’s priceless.
or
worth a 0000000 Billion.