My reluctant scribble of a costume design for Ophelia during my Performance Art Degree began another shy flirtation with fine art. It nearly became a full blown affair when a tutor encouraged me to apply to the Slade (a renowned art college, not Noddy Holder’s ensemble) but the damning verdict from school lingered and I chose to work on a different creative canvas.
Years later, gazing out from my temporary home in Lymington, I suddenly saw the future with clarity and an astonishing lack of self doubt – I would become a professional artist. I bought my first tubes of oil paint and was off. A gallery took me on, my paintings sold, I reached the finals in national competitions and publishing offers came from around the world. It was encouraging when one painting, selected by WH Smith for their British Artists card range sold 20,000 in the first year.
However, epic amounts of solitary hard work went into getting here so please don’t think I’m ever arrogant or complacent. Pictures can still go wrong and when months of work land up in the bin it’s hideous.
But when someone says they still display my greetings card five years after it arrived, because it gives them such pleasure, it’s a joyous moment. It’s why I do what I do.
I’m driven by colour, atmosphere & the story beyond the canvas. And there is always a story. Thank you very much for reading a little of mine.
