“Art has such power to communicate and I’m using my work as a visual reminder of what’s going wrong, what’s at stake,” says Matthew Penn from within the black walls of his cavernous Margate studio. “Conservation should be treated as our highest priority, but I don’t think haranguing people works. I’m hoping my art will inspire them to come at it from a place of love and engagement.” We are standing at the centre of the darkened space, next to two trestle tables on which the components of a pair of animal skeletons are meticulously laid out, spotlit from above. The effect is cinematic and ethereal; Penn has cast every bone in crystal glass and the lighting imbues them with an eerie inner glow. We could be behind the scenes of a ghostly museum or in the library of an eccentric Victorian naturalist, but such musings are belied by Penn’s resolutely unpretentious persona, honed in Dover, where he grew up. “Dover makes Margate feel like Chelsea,” he says, laughing.