For over a century Bolingbroke Hospital in southwest London stood at the heart of the local community. After it shut down in 2009 the St. George's Hospital Arts Trust commissioned me to commemorate the place. Wandering around this giant corpse of a building with my 5x4 plate camera, I encountered a twilight world of things. Things once useful, now abandoned and forlorn.

Here, where people and names have long since disappeared, who gets to decide what should be kept and what should be forgotten? With my camera I salvaged some small scraps of memory. A row of empty chairs waiting vainly for new occupants. A pair of folding doors left enigmatically ajar. Electrical fittings tacked, like some minimalist composition, to a scruffy white wall.

It was as if by immersing myself in this building, by becoming silent, I managed to listen in on the building's thoughts. Here, as in much of my other work, I sought out those spots and details where undeclared forces and unspoken histories most tellingly converge. By operating in a way at once precise and intuitive, my aim is to produce photographic artefacts onto which the fugitive, barely perceptible effects of architectural space might be duly transcribed.

After all, isn't this what photography does best? Alchemically turning sight into knowledge? Helping us notice things that would otherwise remain hidden? Things which, as a result of conditioning or mere inattentiveness, we habitually do not see?