Once upon a time a seed landed on the top soil of a freshly dug garden. Laying on the moist earth, it felt at home and began to send roots down into the darkness amongst the worms and other night crawlers. It lay like this for a while through rain and shine, night and day, until it was time to send a shoot skyward. Almost immediately a bird arrived to sing to the new growth encouraging it to burst forth in the way only this shoot could.
The plant that was a seed drew up the soil’s nutrients and its shoot divided into three leaves of vibrant green with red dots. Humans came to lay turf and their boots halted near the plant. They gazed and murmured, then the boots stepped away. Gently, and with minimal vibrations, they laid the turf around the plant, cutting a circle for the place it had claimed as home.
As always, if you’d love to own this, or another image on this site, email me.
Once upon a time a creature emerged from the deep blue lake and surprised the birds nearby into silence. Gazing at the birds with a sort of recognition, the creature smiled. The birds saw the creature’s giant lips peel back and sharp yellowy teeth glistened in the sunlight. Bobbing down, the birds prepared for flight as the creature moved slowly forward from the middle of the lake, a wake forming behind it. Feathers began to pop up on its head; they were pink with black dots. The creature pursed its lips together and blew. Twinkling notes filled the air and surprised the birds so much that they almost fell from their branches. Intrigued, they relaxed and waited. The creature emerged from the lake massive, pink, scaly, and feathery, whistling her song and laid beneath the tree. The birds flew down, hopped near, and one landed on the creature’s belly, tickling her and making her giggle.
As always, if you’d love to own this image, email me.
This drawing I made yesterday feels disturbing. It’s kind of insect-like, yet has an ‘as above, so below’ feel to it. But the grey half is different to the colourful half. It’s like the colour has sucked itself out to exist for a while as colour and will eventually return. The colour is dancing, going, “I am here!” It is attached to the grey thing, is still part of it, but has, briefly, taken another form. It feels separate but isn’t. I think it’s about being human.
In therapy this week I allowed my inner 5 year old child to paint and she painted this abstract piece (and told a gruesome story about a butterfly and an ant). As she painted I realised I never liked making figurative images (except cartoon faces, which I drew loads of when I was a little older). I loved abstract art. I loved looking at the colours and the textures of the paint. I always have.
Mr Yates, art teacher at Walton Girls’ High School, 1983
I’ve often wondered why I accepted Mr Yates’ statement as Truth when I was thirteen. I immediately stopped drawing and began a journal instead. I had a flash of insight yesterday whilst washing my hair (of all things): he’d stated I wasn’t good enough at identity level. “You’re not good enough.” It was like a magic spell. I believed him. I stopped.
This drawing began as a mindfulness exercise to soothe me after stretching my comfort zone. I like the feel of the paper and the sound of the pen making dots. As I look at it I realise it’s a reflection of all the things I’ve been thinking about lately – spirituality, resonance, parts therapy, to name a few. More Than The Sum of Our Parts is for sale. If you’re interested in it or any other art I have for sale, email me.
You could win this limited edition photographic print on exhibition standard canvas paper! I took the photograph in Autumn 2020 when the sun was low in the sky, creating these lovely dramatic shadows. I edited the photograph using a layer that brings out the marks on my desk. I find the contrast of the natural object and my paint marks pleasing. Want to win this piece? Click here!
You can, of course, buy a print. There will be a maximum of 25 prints of this image, so if you’d like to get your hands on one, email me.
This photo shows the light of the setting sun on trees at Stanmer Park. I just love the orangey purple of the light on the branches and the contrasting areas of shade. As I walked through the woods I felt utter joy at the gorgeous display. It was incredibly cold but even so I felt I had to stand and gaze in places because my heart felt so full of beauty. I can feel myself getting ready to paint.
This is my latest pigment pen drawing, Turning Over A New Leaf, which is for sale – email me if you’d like more information. My research into the phrase, “turning over a new leaf,” highlighted the assumption that often accompanies the intention to turn over a new leaf. Here’s a definition from Collins: