This painting is based on a December day at the house of a friend in the Chiltern Hills, in England. It looks for beauty in the midst of winter and re-imagines our cold water swim, paying homage to Hockney’s iconic swimming pool paintings. It is about a journey to acceptance through meditation; my red towel makes a light hearted reference to the robes of a Buddhist monk, and the kitsch summer house suggests a Buddhist temple. I stayed at a Tibetan Buddhist monastery many years ago, and was profoundly affected by the experience.
acrylic on canvas
I painted this image in a meditative way to recall happy times and places, to bring peace of mind into present reality and share that with others. The rainbow around the sun is something I saw on my travels in Tibet when I was young, although the landscape is a Welsh one, painted from sketches from earlier in the year, and from many overlapping memories of that much loved place. The photos are of my first encounter with Tibetan Buddhism, during an unexpected stay at a monastery in the late '90s. The title references the book of similar name by Richard Llewellyn. It is a way of saying that in the inner world, the grass can be always green.
I began this painting of St Dyfnog's Well as an act of prayer. Over summer, the painting remained unfinished on my easel, though the prayer continued. Then, in September, a situation that had at times felt hopeless became a little lighter. Feeling thankful, I painted a lotus flower, symbol of light and purity, into the water, and finished the painting.
My response to a music event at a Sussex coppice wood at the beginning of May, which marked the migratory return of the nightingale. The tall trees in the background are coppiced oak. They grew into that shape when competing with other trees, hornbeams, recently harvested and regenerating from their huge, intact root systems, leaving the slender oaks towering high above. Lying in the grass that starry night, I listened to the interwoven song of woman and nightingale and was transported somewhere transcendent. The flame-like woman is both real and of the present moment, and also a ghost from past times, brought to mind by story telling around the fire that evening.
This is a woodland in spring, in Wales where I grew up but no longer live. I painted it after a visit, based on sketches and memory and photographs. It also contains elements of a woodland in Sussex where I spent time that early summer, like the deer and the nightingale and the woodsman. I have tried to capture the sense of aliveness in the plants, their humming and pulsing and being. There is also a sense of yearning for a lost place and time, a bitter sweet nostalgia.
This painting represents a step on my path towards a deeper visual expression of the life force of trees and other plants. I think of it as a plant portrait. It tries to capture the very short moment in early spring when plants emerge from dormancy with exquisite delicacy and fragility.
This painting is based on a December day at the house of a friend in the Chiltern Hills, in England. It looks for beauty in the midst of winter and re-imagines our cold water swim, paying homage to Hockney’s iconic swimming pool paintings. It is about a journey to acceptance through meditation; my red towel makes a light hearted reference to the robes of a Buddhist monk, and the kitsch summer house suggests a Buddhist temple. I stayed at a Tibetan Buddhist monastery many years ago, and was profoundly affected by the experience.
This image began as a celebration of the dogwood tree in my garden, a native species in many a hedgerow, with vibrant red bark and tender bright green leaves as they unfurl from bud. It developed into something more about the negative spaces, and what lies beyond, in the cold spring light. The body of water has many meanings. It was inspired by a holy spring in Llanrhaeadr, St Dyfnog's Well, a mystical place that I am drawn to. The painting bears the scars of reworking as the image and its meaning revealed itself to me, as with much of my work. I don't hide this struggle, which is part of the process, a bit like kintsugi.
This painting is about a cold winter swim one morning, when the flat light meant nothing felt attached to the earth. The painting tries to capture a brief moment in time and also to narrate a story that is both intensely personal and yet wholly universal, part of the human experience.
I visited St Dyfnog’s Well in April 2022 after it had emerged as a recurring theme in two earlier works. Forest Bathing describes the sensation of being held within what feels like a natural bowl, encircled by the trees which grow up the steep sides of the ravine, with water flowing from the spring, and wood anemones and other forest plants carpeting the ground beneath. The image represents an acceptance that there can be no return to a place and time long passed, with the spring and running water signifying hope.
I painted this view of my garden after planting more trees and wild flowers over the winter of 2020/21, and creating a mound along permaculture principals. The mound is also a nod to the past; to the ancient burial mounds which dot the English landscape where I now live, and to the landscape of my childhood in North Wales, which included land forms in formal gardens, laid out centuries ago by Stephen Switzer. Today, I take a childlike delight in my small mound and urban vista. The process of re-creating my garden inspired me to resume large scale studio painting after many years, and this was the first of these paintings. My garden is now a constant inspiration. The mound was still almost bare earth in places back then, and now, changing with the seasons, it is always buzzing with life.
This is my experience of an evening walk in the Chilterns. As the sun dips, a hyper-reality emerges; the colours intensify, the shadows deepen, and the profusion of wild flowers and trees take on an added solidity or dimension, backlit, with the swallows zooming in and out. And above, the clouds so heavy they too have a heightened solidity, as if they might fall down from the sky, like boulders. Based on a small painting of the same place from the summer before, the passage of time between the two paintings lent particular poignancy to this later work.
This painting remembers an idyllic stay in Wales in July 2020, which I painted a year later, based on sketches, photographs, and memories tinged with nostalgia. It tells the story of some events during that intervening year, as a way of processing those events and letting them go.
This view from my studio window captures a brief moment one cold February morning as the sun rose and turned the sky golden. I am often transfixed by the light effects on the houses across the street, as the sun moves over the sky. I wanted to share a sense of deep calm and simple joy in the daybreak, a fresh start. The title references the Broadway Musical number, sung with such genius by Nina Simone, and which played on repeat in my head while I painted this.
One of many sketches of myself and others
I've tried to capture the essence of my daughter Ellie in this paint study from my perspective as her mother; her strength, stillness and beauty and also a sense of mystery, because as an adult, she is now separate from me and travelling a path that will be always a little unknown to me. The colour palette references her Mexican heritage.
White Horse at Moel Findeg is the final painting in my “Transcendence” series. It depicts one of the wild ponies at an inspirational community owned nature reserve in North Wales where I find peace. It was hard to finish but I later came to understand that the white horse symbolises my higher self, waiting for me to return; to overcome difficulty and despair. I learned that in early Celtic symbolism, geese represent protection of family and speaking out against injustice.
I painted this image in a meditative way to recall happy times and places, to bring peace of mind into present reality and share that with others. The rainbow around the sun is something I saw on my travels in Tibet when I was young, although the landscape is a Welsh one, painted from sketches from earlier in the year, and from many overlapping memories of that much loved place. The photos are of my first encounter with Tibetan Buddhism, during an unexpected stay at a monastery in the late '90s. The title references the book of similar name by Richard Llewellyn. It is a way of saying that in the inner world, the grass can be always green.
I began this painting of St Dyfnog's Well as an act of prayer. Over summer, the painting remained unfinished on my easel, though the prayer continued. Then, in September, a situation that had at times felt hopeless became a little lighter. Feeling thankful, I painted a lotus flower, symbol of light and purity, into the water, and finished the painting.
My response to a music event at a Sussex coppice wood at the beginning of May, which marked the migratory return of the nightingale. The tall trees in the background are coppiced oak. They grew into that shape when competing with other trees, hornbeams, recently harvested and regenerating from their huge, intact root systems, leaving the slender oaks towering high above. Lying in the grass that starry night, I listened to the interwoven song of woman and nightingale and was transported somewhere transcendent. The flame-like woman is both real and of the present moment, and also a ghost from past times, brought to mind by story telling around the fire that evening.
This is a woodland in spring, in Wales where I grew up but no longer live. I painted it after a visit, based on sketches and memory and photographs. It also contains elements of a woodland in Sussex where I spent time that early summer, like the deer and the nightingale and the woodsman. I have tried to capture the sense of aliveness in the plants, their humming and pulsing and being. There is also a sense of yearning for a lost place and time, a bitter sweet nostalgia.
This painting represents a step on my path towards a deeper visual expression of the life force of trees and other plants. I think of it as a plant portrait. It tries to capture the very short moment in early spring when plants emerge from dormancy with exquisite delicacy and fragility.
This painting is based on a December day at the house of a friend in the Chiltern Hills, in England. It looks for beauty in the midst of winter and re-imagines our cold water swim, paying homage to Hockney’s iconic swimming pool paintings. It is about a journey to acceptance through meditation; my red towel makes a light hearted reference to the robes of a Buddhist monk, and the kitsch summer house suggests a Buddhist temple. I stayed at a Tibetan Buddhist monastery many years ago, and was profoundly affected by the experience.
This image began as a celebration of the dogwood tree in my garden, a native species in many a hedgerow, with vibrant red bark and tender bright green leaves as they unfurl from bud. It developed into something more about the negative spaces, and what lies beyond, in the cold spring light. The body of water has many meanings. It was inspired by a holy spring in Llanrhaeadr, St Dyfnog's Well, a mystical place that I am drawn to. The painting bears the scars of reworking as the image and its meaning revealed itself to me, as with much of my work. I don't hide this struggle, which is part of the process, a bit like kintsugi.
This painting is about a cold winter swim one morning, when the flat light meant nothing felt attached to the earth. The painting tries to capture a brief moment in time and also to narrate a story that is both intensely personal and yet wholly universal, part of the human experience.
I visited St Dyfnog’s Well in April 2022 after it had emerged as a recurring theme in two earlier works. Forest Bathing describes the sensation of being held within what feels like a natural bowl, encircled by the trees which grow up the steep sides of the ravine, with water flowing from the spring, and wood anemones and other forest plants carpeting the ground beneath. The image represents an acceptance that there can be no return to a place and time long passed, with the spring and running water signifying hope.
I painted this view of my garden after planting more trees and wild flowers over the winter of 2020/21, and creating a mound along permaculture principals. The mound is also a nod to the past; to the ancient burial mounds which dot the English landscape where I now live, and to the landscape of my childhood in North Wales, which included land forms in formal gardens, laid out centuries ago by Stephen Switzer. Today, I take a childlike delight in my small mound and urban vista. The process of re-creating my garden inspired me to resume large scale studio painting after many years, and this was the first of these paintings. My garden is now a constant inspiration. The mound was still almost bare earth in places back then, and now, changing with the seasons, it is always buzzing with life.
This is my experience of an evening walk in the Chilterns. As the sun dips, a hyper-reality emerges; the colours intensify, the shadows deepen, and the profusion of wild flowers and trees take on an added solidity or dimension, backlit, with the swallows zooming in and out. And above, the clouds so heavy they too have a heightened solidity, as if they might fall down from the sky, like boulders. Based on a small painting of the same place from the summer before, the passage of time between the two paintings lent particular poignancy to this later work.
This painting remembers an idyllic stay in Wales in July 2020, which I painted a year later, based on sketches, photographs, and memories tinged with nostalgia. It tells the story of some events during that intervening year, as a way of processing those events and letting them go.
This view from my studio window captures a brief moment one cold February morning as the sun rose and turned the sky golden. I am often transfixed by the light effects on the houses across the street, as the sun moves over the sky. I wanted to share a sense of deep calm and simple joy in the daybreak, a fresh start. The title references the Broadway Musical number, sung with such genius by Nina Simone, and which played on repeat in my head while I painted this.
One of many sketches of myself and others
I've tried to capture the essence of my daughter Ellie in this paint study from my perspective as her mother; her strength, stillness and beauty and also a sense of mystery, because as an adult, she is now separate from me and travelling a path that will be always a little unknown to me. The colour palette references her Mexican heritage.
White Horse at Moel Findeg is the final painting in my “Transcendence” series. It depicts one of the wild ponies at an inspirational community owned nature reserve in North Wales where I find peace. It was hard to finish but I later came to understand that the white horse symbolises my higher self, waiting for me to return; to overcome difficulty and despair. I learned that in early Celtic symbolism, geese represent protection of family and speaking out against injustice.
I painted this image in a meditative way to recall happy times and places, to bring peace of mind into present reality and share that with others. The rainbow around the sun is something I saw on my travels in Tibet when I was young, although the landscape is a Welsh one, painted from sketches from earlier in the year, and from many overlapping memories of that much loved place. The photos are of my first encounter with Tibetan Buddhism, during an unexpected stay at a monastery in the late '90s. The title references the book of similar name by Richard Llewellyn. It is a way of saying that in the inner world, the grass can be always green.
I began this painting of St Dyfnog's Well as an act of prayer. Over summer, the painting remained unfinished on my easel, though the prayer continued. Then, in September, a situation that had at times felt hopeless became a little lighter. Feeling thankful, I painted a lotus flower, symbol of light and purity, into the water, and finished the painting.
My response to a music event at a Sussex coppice wood at the beginning of May, which marked the migratory return of the nightingale. The tall trees in the background are coppiced oak. They grew into that shape when competing with other trees, hornbeams, recently harvested and regenerating from their huge, intact root systems, leaving the slender oaks towering high above. Lying in the grass that starry night, I listened to the interwoven song of woman and nightingale and was transported somewhere transcendent. The flame-like woman is both real and of the present moment, and also a ghost from past times, brought to mind by story telling around the fire that evening.
This is a woodland in spring, in Wales where I grew up but no longer live. I painted it after a visit, based on sketches and memory and photographs. It also contains elements of a woodland in Sussex where I spent time that early summer, like the deer and the nightingale and the woodsman. I have tried to capture the sense of aliveness in the plants, their humming and pulsing and being. There is also a sense of yearning for a lost place and time, a bitter sweet nostalgia.
This painting represents a step on my path towards a deeper visual expression of the life force of trees and other plants. I think of it as a plant portrait. It tries to capture the very short moment in early spring when plants emerge from dormancy with exquisite delicacy and fragility.
This painting is based on a December day at the house of a friend in the Chiltern Hills, in England. It looks for beauty in the midst of winter and re-imagines our cold water swim, paying homage to Hockney’s iconic swimming pool paintings. It is about a journey to acceptance through meditation; my red towel makes a light hearted reference to the robes of a Buddhist monk, and the kitsch summer house suggests a Buddhist temple. I stayed at a Tibetan Buddhist monastery many years ago, and was profoundly affected by the experience.
This image began as a celebration of the dogwood tree in my garden, a native species in many a hedgerow, with vibrant red bark and tender bright green leaves as they unfurl from bud. It developed into something more about the negative spaces, and what lies beyond, in the cold spring light. The body of water has many meanings. It was inspired by a holy spring in Llanrhaeadr, St Dyfnog's Well, a mystical place that I am drawn to. The painting bears the scars of reworking as the image and its meaning revealed itself to me, as with much of my work. I don't hide this struggle, which is part of the process, a bit like kintsugi.
This painting is about a cold winter swim one morning, when the flat light meant nothing felt attached to the earth. The painting tries to capture a brief moment in time and also to narrate a story that is both intensely personal and yet wholly universal, part of the human experience.
I visited St Dyfnog’s Well in April 2022 after it had emerged as a recurring theme in two earlier works. Forest Bathing describes the sensation of being held within what feels like a natural bowl, encircled by the trees which grow up the steep sides of the ravine, with water flowing from the spring, and wood anemones and other forest plants carpeting the ground beneath. The image represents an acceptance that there can be no return to a place and time long passed, with the spring and running water signifying hope.
I painted this view of my garden after planting more trees and wild flowers over the winter of 2020/21, and creating a mound along permaculture principals. The mound is also a nod to the past; to the ancient burial mounds which dot the English landscape where I now live, and to the landscape of my childhood in North Wales, which included land forms in formal gardens, laid out centuries ago by Stephen Switzer. Today, I take a childlike delight in my small mound and urban vista. The process of re-creating my garden inspired me to resume large scale studio painting after many years, and this was the first of these paintings. My garden is now a constant inspiration. The mound was still almost bare earth in places back then, and now, changing with the seasons, it is always buzzing with life.
This is my experience of an evening walk in the Chilterns. As the sun dips, a hyper-reality emerges; the colours intensify, the shadows deepen, and the profusion of wild flowers and trees take on an added solidity or dimension, backlit, with the swallows zooming in and out. And above, the clouds so heavy they too have a heightened solidity, as if they might fall down from the sky, like boulders. Based on a small painting of the same place from the summer before, the passage of time between the two paintings lent particular poignancy to this later work.
This painting remembers an idyllic stay in Wales in July 2020, which I painted a year later, based on sketches, photographs, and memories tinged with nostalgia. It tells the story of some events during that intervening year, as a way of processing those events and letting them go.
This view from my studio window captures a brief moment one cold February morning as the sun rose and turned the sky golden. I am often transfixed by the light effects on the houses across the street, as the sun moves over the sky. I wanted to share a sense of deep calm and simple joy in the daybreak, a fresh start. The title references the Broadway Musical number, sung with such genius by Nina Simone, and which played on repeat in my head while I painted this.
One of many sketches of myself and others
I've tried to capture the essence of my daughter Ellie in this paint study from my perspective as her mother; her strength, stillness and beauty and also a sense of mystery, because as an adult, she is now separate from me and travelling a path that will be always a little unknown to me. The colour palette references her Mexican heritage.
White Horse at Moel Findeg is the final painting in my “Transcendence” series. It depicts one of the wild ponies at an inspirational community owned nature reserve in North Wales where I find peace. It was hard to finish but I later came to understand that the white horse symbolises my higher self, waiting for me to return; to overcome difficulty and despair. I learned that in early Celtic symbolism, geese represent protection of family and speaking out against injustice.
I painted this image in a meditative way to recall happy times and places, to bring peace of mind into present reality and share that with others. The rainbow around the sun is something I saw on my travels in Tibet when I was young, although the landscape is a Welsh one, painted from sketches from earlier in the year, and from many overlapping memories of that much loved place. The photos are of my first encounter with Tibetan Buddhism, during an unexpected stay at a monastery in the late '90s. The title references the book of similar name by Richard Llewellyn. It is a way of saying that in the inner world, the grass can be always green.
I began this painting of St Dyfnog's Well as an act of prayer. Over summer, the painting remained unfinished on my easel, though the prayer continued. Then, in September, a situation that had at times felt hopeless became a little lighter. Feeling thankful, I painted a lotus flower, symbol of light and purity, into the water, and finished the painting.
My response to a music event at a Sussex coppice wood at the beginning of May, which marked the migratory return of the nightingale. The tall trees in the background are coppiced oak. They grew into that shape when competing with other trees, hornbeams, recently harvested and regenerating from their huge, intact root systems, leaving the slender oaks towering high above. Lying in the grass that starry night, I listened to the interwoven song of woman and nightingale and was transported somewhere transcendent. The flame-like woman is both real and of the present moment, and also a ghost from past times, brought to mind by story telling around the fire that evening.
This is a woodland in spring, in Wales where I grew up but no longer live. I painted it after a visit, based on sketches and memory and photographs. It also contains elements of a woodland in Sussex where I spent time that early summer, like the deer and the nightingale and the woodsman. I have tried to capture the sense of aliveness in the plants, their humming and pulsing and being. There is also a sense of yearning for a lost place and time, a bitter sweet nostalgia.
This painting represents a step on my path towards a deeper visual expression of the life force of trees and other plants. I think of it as a plant portrait. It tries to capture the very short moment in early spring when plants emerge from dormancy with exquisite delicacy and fragility.
This painting is based on a December day at the house of a friend in the Chiltern Hills, in England. It looks for beauty in the midst of winter and re-imagines our cold water swim, paying homage to Hockney’s iconic swimming pool paintings. It is about a journey to acceptance through meditation; my red towel makes a light hearted reference to the robes of a Buddhist monk, and the kitsch summer house suggests a Buddhist temple. I stayed at a Tibetan Buddhist monastery many years ago, and was profoundly affected by the experience.
This image began as a celebration of the dogwood tree in my garden, a native species in many a hedgerow, with vibrant red bark and tender bright green leaves as they unfurl from bud. It developed into something more about the negative spaces, and what lies beyond, in the cold spring light. The body of water has many meanings. It was inspired by a holy spring in Llanrhaeadr, St Dyfnog's Well, a mystical place that I am drawn to. The painting bears the scars of reworking as the image and its meaning revealed itself to me, as with much of my work. I don't hide this struggle, which is part of the process, a bit like kintsugi.
This painting is about a cold winter swim one morning, when the flat light meant nothing felt attached to the earth. The painting tries to capture a brief moment in time and also to narrate a story that is both intensely personal and yet wholly universal, part of the human experience.
I visited St Dyfnog’s Well in April 2022 after it had emerged as a recurring theme in two earlier works. Forest Bathing describes the sensation of being held within what feels like a natural bowl, encircled by the trees which grow up the steep sides of the ravine, with water flowing from the spring, and wood anemones and other forest plants carpeting the ground beneath. The image represents an acceptance that there can be no return to a place and time long passed, with the spring and running water signifying hope.
I painted this view of my garden after planting more trees and wild flowers over the winter of 2020/21, and creating a mound along permaculture principals. The mound is also a nod to the past; to the ancient burial mounds which dot the English landscape where I now live, and to the landscape of my childhood in North Wales, which included land forms in formal gardens, laid out centuries ago by Stephen Switzer. Today, I take a childlike delight in my small mound and urban vista. The process of re-creating my garden inspired me to resume large scale studio painting after many years, and this was the first of these paintings. My garden is now a constant inspiration. The mound was still almost bare earth in places back then, and now, changing with the seasons, it is always buzzing with life.
This is my experience of an evening walk in the Chilterns. As the sun dips, a hyper-reality emerges; the colours intensify, the shadows deepen, and the profusion of wild flowers and trees take on an added solidity or dimension, backlit, with the swallows zooming in and out. And above, the clouds so heavy they too have a heightened solidity, as if they might fall down from the sky, like boulders. Based on a small painting of the same place from the summer before, the passage of time between the two paintings lent particular poignancy to this later work.
This painting remembers an idyllic stay in Wales in July 2020, which I painted a year later, based on sketches, photographs, and memories tinged with nostalgia. It tells the story of some events during that intervening year, as a way of processing those events and letting them go.
This view from my studio window captures a brief moment one cold February morning as the sun rose and turned the sky golden. I am often transfixed by the light effects on the houses across the street, as the sun moves over the sky. I wanted to share a sense of deep calm and simple joy in the daybreak, a fresh start. The title references the Broadway Musical number, sung with such genius by Nina Simone, and which played on repeat in my head while I painted this.
One of many sketches of myself and others
I've tried to capture the essence of my daughter Ellie in this paint study from my perspective as her mother; her strength, stillness and beauty and also a sense of mystery, because as an adult, she is now separate from me and travelling a path that will be always a little unknown to me. The colour palette references her Mexican heritage.
White Horse at Moel Findeg is the final painting in my “Transcendence” series. It depicts one of the wild ponies at an inspirational community owned nature reserve in North Wales where I find peace. It was hard to finish but I later came to understand that the white horse symbolises my higher self, waiting for me to return; to overcome difficulty and despair. I learned that in early Celtic symbolism, geese represent protection of family and speaking out against injustice.
I painted this image in a meditative way to recall happy times and places, to bring peace of mind into present reality and share that with others. The rainbow around the sun is something I saw on my travels in Tibet when I was young, although the landscape is a Welsh one, painted from sketches from earlier in the year, and from many overlapping memories of that much loved place. The photos are of my first encounter with Tibetan Buddhism, during an unexpected stay at a monastery in the late '90s. The title references the book of similar name by Richard Llewellyn. It is a way of saying that in the inner world, the grass can be always green.
I began this painting of St Dyfnog's Well as an act of prayer. Over summer, the painting remained unfinished on my easel, though the prayer continued. Then, in September, a situation that had at times felt hopeless became a little lighter. Feeling thankful, I painted a lotus flower, symbol of light and purity, into the water, and finished the painting.
My response to a music event at a Sussex coppice wood at the beginning of May, which marked the migratory return of the nightingale. The tall trees in the background are coppiced oak. They grew into that shape when competing with other trees, hornbeams, recently harvested and regenerating from their huge, intact root systems, leaving the slender oaks towering high above. Lying in the grass that starry night, I listened to the interwoven song of woman and nightingale and was transported somewhere transcendent. The flame-like woman is both real and of the present moment, and also a ghost from past times, brought to mind by story telling around the fire that evening.
This is a woodland in spring, in Wales where I grew up but no longer live. I painted it after a visit, based on sketches and memory and photographs. It also contains elements of a woodland in Sussex where I spent time that early summer, like the deer and the nightingale and the woodsman. I have tried to capture the sense of aliveness in the plants, their humming and pulsing and being. There is also a sense of yearning for a lost place and time, a bitter sweet nostalgia.
This painting represents a step on my path towards a deeper visual expression of the life force of trees and other plants. I think of it as a plant portrait. It tries to capture the very short moment in early spring when plants emerge from dormancy with exquisite delicacy and fragility.
This painting is based on a December day at the house of a friend in the Chiltern Hills, in England. It looks for beauty in the midst of winter and re-imagines our cold water swim, paying homage to Hockney’s iconic swimming pool paintings. It is about a journey to acceptance through meditation; my red towel makes a light hearted reference to the robes of a Buddhist monk, and the kitsch summer house suggests a Buddhist temple. I stayed at a Tibetan Buddhist monastery many years ago, and was profoundly affected by the experience.
This image began as a celebration of the dogwood tree in my garden, a native species in many a hedgerow, with vibrant red bark and tender bright green leaves as they unfurl from bud. It developed into something more about the negative spaces, and what lies beyond, in the cold spring light. The body of water has many meanings. It was inspired by a holy spring in Llanrhaeadr, St Dyfnog's Well, a mystical place that I am drawn to. The painting bears the scars of reworking as the image and its meaning revealed itself to me, as with much of my work. I don't hide this struggle, which is part of the process, a bit like kintsugi.
This painting is about a cold winter swim one morning, when the flat light meant nothing felt attached to the earth. The painting tries to capture a brief moment in time and also to narrate a story that is both intensely personal and yet wholly universal, part of the human experience.
I visited St Dyfnog’s Well in April 2022 after it had emerged as a recurring theme in two earlier works. Forest Bathing describes the sensation of being held within what feels like a natural bowl, encircled by the trees which grow up the steep sides of the ravine, with water flowing from the spring, and wood anemones and other forest plants carpeting the ground beneath. The image represents an acceptance that there can be no return to a place and time long passed, with the spring and running water signifying hope.
I painted this view of my garden after planting more trees and wild flowers over the winter of 2020/21, and creating a mound along permaculture principals. The mound is also a nod to the past; to the ancient burial mounds which dot the English landscape where I now live, and to the landscape of my childhood in North Wales, which included land forms in formal gardens, laid out centuries ago by Stephen Switzer. Today, I take a childlike delight in my small mound and urban vista. The process of re-creating my garden inspired me to resume large scale studio painting after many years, and this was the first of these paintings. My garden is now a constant inspiration. The mound was still almost bare earth in places back then, and now, changing with the seasons, it is always buzzing with life.
This is my experience of an evening walk in the Chilterns. As the sun dips, a hyper-reality emerges; the colours intensify, the shadows deepen, and the profusion of wild flowers and trees take on an added solidity or dimension, backlit, with the swallows zooming in and out. And above, the clouds so heavy they too have a heightened solidity, as if they might fall down from the sky, like boulders. Based on a small painting of the same place from the summer before, the passage of time between the two paintings lent particular poignancy to this later work.
This painting remembers an idyllic stay in Wales in July 2020, which I painted a year later, based on sketches, photographs, and memories tinged with nostalgia. It tells the story of some events during that intervening year, as a way of processing those events and letting them go.
This view from my studio window captures a brief moment one cold February morning as the sun rose and turned the sky golden. I am often transfixed by the light effects on the houses across the street, as the sun moves over the sky. I wanted to share a sense of deep calm and simple joy in the daybreak, a fresh start. The title references the Broadway Musical number, sung with such genius by Nina Simone, and which played on repeat in my head while I painted this.
One of many sketches of myself and others
I've tried to capture the essence of my daughter Ellie in this paint study from my perspective as her mother; her strength, stillness and beauty and also a sense of mystery, because as an adult, she is now separate from me and travelling a path that will be always a little unknown to me. The colour palette references her Mexican heritage.
White Horse at Moel Findeg is the final painting in my “Transcendence” series. It depicts one of the wild ponies at an inspirational community owned nature reserve in North Wales where I find peace. It was hard to finish but I later came to understand that the white horse symbolises my higher self, waiting for me to return; to overcome difficulty and despair. I learned that in early Celtic symbolism, geese represent protection of family and speaking out against injustice.
I painted this image in a meditative way to recall happy times and places, to bring peace of mind into present reality and share that with others. The rainbow around the sun is something I saw on my travels in Tibet when I was young, although the landscape is a Welsh one, painted from sketches from earlier in the year, and from many overlapping memories of that much loved place. The photos are of my first encounter with Tibetan Buddhism, during an unexpected stay at a monastery in the late '90s. The title references the book of similar name by Richard Llewellyn. It is a way of saying that in the inner world, the grass can be always green.
I began this painting of St Dyfnog's Well as an act of prayer. Over summer, the painting remained unfinished on my easel, though the prayer continued. Then, in September, a situation that had at times felt hopeless became a little lighter. Feeling thankful, I painted a lotus flower, symbol of light and purity, into the water, and finished the painting.
My response to a music event at a Sussex coppice wood at the beginning of May, which marked the migratory return of the nightingale. The tall trees in the background are coppiced oak. They grew into that shape when competing with other trees, hornbeams, recently harvested and regenerating from their huge, intact root systems, leaving the slender oaks towering high above. Lying in the grass that starry night, I listened to the interwoven song of woman and nightingale and was transported somewhere transcendent. The flame-like woman is both real and of the present moment, and also a ghost from past times, brought to mind by story telling around the fire that evening.
This is a woodland in spring, in Wales where I grew up but no longer live. I painted it after a visit, based on sketches and memory and photographs. It also contains elements of a woodland in Sussex where I spent time that early summer, like the deer and the nightingale and the woodsman. I have tried to capture the sense of aliveness in the plants, their humming and pulsing and being. There is also a sense of yearning for a lost place and time, a bitter sweet nostalgia.
This painting represents a step on my path towards a deeper visual expression of the life force of trees and other plants. I think of it as a plant portrait. It tries to capture the very short moment in early spring when plants emerge from dormancy with exquisite delicacy and fragility.
This painting is based on a December day at the house of a friend in the Chiltern Hills, in England. It looks for beauty in the midst of winter and re-imagines our cold water swim, paying homage to Hockney’s iconic swimming pool paintings. It is about a journey to acceptance through meditation; my red towel makes a light hearted reference to the robes of a Buddhist monk, and the kitsch summer house suggests a Buddhist temple. I stayed at a Tibetan Buddhist monastery many years ago, and was profoundly affected by the experience.
This image began as a celebration of the dogwood tree in my garden, a native species in many a hedgerow, with vibrant red bark and tender bright green leaves as they unfurl from bud. It developed into something more about the negative spaces, and what lies beyond, in the cold spring light. The body of water has many meanings. It was inspired by a holy spring in Llanrhaeadr, St Dyfnog's Well, a mystical place that I am drawn to. The painting bears the scars of reworking as the image and its meaning revealed itself to me, as with much of my work. I don't hide this struggle, which is part of the process, a bit like kintsugi.
This painting is about a cold winter swim one morning, when the flat light meant nothing felt attached to the earth. The painting tries to capture a brief moment in time and also to narrate a story that is both intensely personal and yet wholly universal, part of the human experience.
I visited St Dyfnog’s Well in April 2022 after it had emerged as a recurring theme in two earlier works. Forest Bathing describes the sensation of being held within what feels like a natural bowl, encircled by the trees which grow up the steep sides of the ravine, with water flowing from the spring, and wood anemones and other forest plants carpeting the ground beneath. The image represents an acceptance that there can be no return to a place and time long passed, with the spring and running water signifying hope.
I painted this view of my garden after planting more trees and wild flowers over the winter of 2020/21, and creating a mound along permaculture principals. The mound is also a nod to the past; to the ancient burial mounds which dot the English landscape where I now live, and to the landscape of my childhood in North Wales, which included land forms in formal gardens, laid out centuries ago by Stephen Switzer. Today, I take a childlike delight in my small mound and urban vista. The process of re-creating my garden inspired me to resume large scale studio painting after many years, and this was the first of these paintings. My garden is now a constant inspiration. The mound was still almost bare earth in places back then, and now, changing with the seasons, it is always buzzing with life.
This is my experience of an evening walk in the Chilterns. As the sun dips, a hyper-reality emerges; the colours intensify, the shadows deepen, and the profusion of wild flowers and trees take on an added solidity or dimension, backlit, with the swallows zooming in and out. And above, the clouds so heavy they too have a heightened solidity, as if they might fall down from the sky, like boulders. Based on a small painting of the same place from the summer before, the passage of time between the two paintings lent particular poignancy to this later work.
This painting remembers an idyllic stay in Wales in July 2020, which I painted a year later, based on sketches, photographs, and memories tinged with nostalgia. It tells the story of some events during that intervening year, as a way of processing those events and letting them go.
This view from my studio window captures a brief moment one cold February morning as the sun rose and turned the sky golden. I am often transfixed by the light effects on the houses across the street, as the sun moves over the sky. I wanted to share a sense of deep calm and simple joy in the daybreak, a fresh start. The title references the Broadway Musical number, sung with such genius by Nina Simone, and which played on repeat in my head while I painted this.
One of many sketches of myself and others
I've tried to capture the essence of my daughter Ellie in this paint study from my perspective as her mother; her strength, stillness and beauty and also a sense of mystery, because as an adult, she is now separate from me and travelling a path that will be always a little unknown to me. The colour palette references her Mexican heritage.
White Horse at Moel Findeg is the final painting in my “Transcendence” series. It depicts one of the wild ponies at an inspirational community owned nature reserve in North Wales where I find peace. It was hard to finish but I later came to understand that the white horse symbolises my higher self, waiting for me to return; to overcome difficulty and despair. I learned that in early Celtic symbolism, geese represent protection of family and speaking out against injustice.
I painted this image in a meditative way to recall happy times and places, to bring peace of mind into present reality and share that with others. The rainbow around the sun is something I saw on my travels in Tibet when I was young, although the landscape is a Welsh one, painted from sketches from earlier in the year, and from many overlapping memories of that much loved place. The photos are of my first encounter with Tibetan Buddhism, during an unexpected stay at a monastery in the late '90s. The title references the book of similar name by Richard Llewellyn. It is a way of saying that in the inner world, the grass can be always green.
I began this painting of St Dyfnog's Well as an act of prayer. Over summer, the painting remained unfinished on my easel, though the prayer continued. Then, in September, a situation that had at times felt hopeless became a little lighter. Feeling thankful, I painted a lotus flower, symbol of light and purity, into the water, and finished the painting.
My response to a music event at a Sussex coppice wood at the beginning of May, which marked the migratory return of the nightingale. The tall trees in the background are coppiced oak. They grew into that shape when competing with other trees, hornbeams, recently harvested and regenerating from their huge, intact root systems, leaving the slender oaks towering high above. Lying in the grass that starry night, I listened to the interwoven song of woman and nightingale and was transported somewhere transcendent. The flame-like woman is both real and of the present moment, and also a ghost from past times, brought to mind by story telling around the fire that evening.
This is a woodland in spring, in Wales where I grew up but no longer live. I painted it after a visit, based on sketches and memory and photographs. It also contains elements of a woodland in Sussex where I spent time that early summer, like the deer and the nightingale and the woodsman. I have tried to capture the sense of aliveness in the plants, their humming and pulsing and being. There is also a sense of yearning for a lost place and time, a bitter sweet nostalgia.
This painting represents a step on my path towards a deeper visual expression of the life force of trees and other plants. I think of it as a plant portrait. It tries to capture the very short moment in early spring when plants emerge from dormancy with exquisite delicacy and fragility.
This painting is based on a December day at the house of a friend in the Chiltern Hills, in England. It looks for beauty in the midst of winter and re-imagines our cold water swim, paying homage to Hockney’s iconic swimming pool paintings. It is about a journey to acceptance through meditation; my red towel makes a light hearted reference to the robes of a Buddhist monk, and the kitsch summer house suggests a Buddhist temple. I stayed at a Tibetan Buddhist monastery many years ago, and was profoundly affected by the experience.
This image began as a celebration of the dogwood tree in my garden, a native species in many a hedgerow, with vibrant red bark and tender bright green leaves as they unfurl from bud. It developed into something more about the negative spaces, and what lies beyond, in the cold spring light. The body of water has many meanings. It was inspired by a holy spring in Llanrhaeadr, St Dyfnog's Well, a mystical place that I am drawn to. The painting bears the scars of reworking as the image and its meaning revealed itself to me, as with much of my work. I don't hide this struggle, which is part of the process, a bit like kintsugi.
This painting is about a cold winter swim one morning, when the flat light meant nothing felt attached to the earth. The painting tries to capture a brief moment in time and also to narrate a story that is both intensely personal and yet wholly universal, part of the human experience.
I visited St Dyfnog’s Well in April 2022 after it had emerged as a recurring theme in two earlier works. Forest Bathing describes the sensation of being held within what feels like a natural bowl, encircled by the trees which grow up the steep sides of the ravine, with water flowing from the spring, and wood anemones and other forest plants carpeting the ground beneath. The image represents an acceptance that there can be no return to a place and time long passed, with the spring and running water signifying hope.
I painted this view of my garden after planting more trees and wild flowers over the winter of 2020/21, and creating a mound along permaculture principals. The mound is also a nod to the past; to the ancient burial mounds which dot the English landscape where I now live, and to the landscape of my childhood in North Wales, which included land forms in formal gardens, laid out centuries ago by Stephen Switzer. Today, I take a childlike delight in my small mound and urban vista. The process of re-creating my garden inspired me to resume large scale studio painting after many years, and this was the first of these paintings. My garden is now a constant inspiration. The mound was still almost bare earth in places back then, and now, changing with the seasons, it is always buzzing with life.
This is my experience of an evening walk in the Chilterns. As the sun dips, a hyper-reality emerges; the colours intensify, the shadows deepen, and the profusion of wild flowers and trees take on an added solidity or dimension, backlit, with the swallows zooming in and out. And above, the clouds so heavy they too have a heightened solidity, as if they might fall down from the sky, like boulders. Based on a small painting of the same place from the summer before, the passage of time between the two paintings lent particular poignancy to this later work.
This painting remembers an idyllic stay in Wales in July 2020, which I painted a year later, based on sketches, photographs, and memories tinged with nostalgia. It tells the story of some events during that intervening year, as a way of processing those events and letting them go.
This view from my studio window captures a brief moment one cold February morning as the sun rose and turned the sky golden. I am often transfixed by the light effects on the houses across the street, as the sun moves over the sky. I wanted to share a sense of deep calm and simple joy in the daybreak, a fresh start. The title references the Broadway Musical number, sung with such genius by Nina Simone, and which played on repeat in my head while I painted this.
One of many sketches of myself and others
I've tried to capture the essence of my daughter Ellie in this paint study from my perspective as her mother; her strength, stillness and beauty and also a sense of mystery, because as an adult, she is now separate from me and travelling a path that will be always a little unknown to me. The colour palette references her Mexican heritage.
White Horse at Moel Findeg is the final painting in my “Transcendence” series. It depicts one of the wild ponies at an inspirational community owned nature reserve in North Wales where I find peace. It was hard to finish but I later came to understand that the white horse symbolises my higher self, waiting for me to return; to overcome difficulty and despair. I learned that in early Celtic symbolism, geese represent protection of family and speaking out against injustice.
I painted this image in a meditative way to recall happy times and places, to bring peace of mind into present reality and share that with others. The rainbow around the sun is something I saw on my travels in Tibet when I was young, although the landscape is a Welsh one, painted from sketches from earlier in the year, and from many overlapping memories of that much loved place. The photos are of my first encounter with Tibetan Buddhism, during an unexpected stay at a monastery in the late '90s. The title references the book of similar name by Richard Llewellyn. It is a way of saying that in the inner world, the grass can be always green.
I began this painting of St Dyfnog's Well as an act of prayer. Over summer, the painting remained unfinished on my easel, though the prayer continued. Then, in September, a situation that had at times felt hopeless became a little lighter. Feeling thankful, I painted a lotus flower, symbol of light and purity, into the water, and finished the painting.
My response to a music event at a Sussex coppice wood at the beginning of May, which marked the migratory return of the nightingale. The tall trees in the background are coppiced oak. They grew into that shape when competing with other trees, hornbeams, recently harvested and regenerating from their huge, intact root systems, leaving the slender oaks towering high above. Lying in the grass that starry night, I listened to the interwoven song of woman and nightingale and was transported somewhere transcendent. The flame-like woman is both real and of the present moment, and also a ghost from past times, brought to mind by story telling around the fire that evening.
This is a woodland in spring, in Wales where I grew up but no longer live. I painted it after a visit, based on sketches and memory and photographs. It also contains elements of a woodland in Sussex where I spent time that early summer, like the deer and the nightingale and the woodsman. I have tried to capture the sense of aliveness in the plants, their humming and pulsing and being. There is also a sense of yearning for a lost place and time, a bitter sweet nostalgia.
This painting represents a step on my path towards a deeper visual expression of the life force of trees and other plants. I think of it as a plant portrait. It tries to capture the very short moment in early spring when plants emerge from dormancy with exquisite delicacy and fragility.
This painting is based on a December day at the house of a friend in the Chiltern Hills, in England. It looks for beauty in the midst of winter and re-imagines our cold water swim, paying homage to Hockney’s iconic swimming pool paintings. It is about a journey to acceptance through meditation; my red towel makes a light hearted reference to the robes of a Buddhist monk, and the kitsch summer house suggests a Buddhist temple. I stayed at a Tibetan Buddhist monastery many years ago, and was profoundly affected by the experience.
This image began as a celebration of the dogwood tree in my garden, a native species in many a hedgerow, with vibrant red bark and tender bright green leaves as they unfurl from bud. It developed into something more about the negative spaces, and what lies beyond, in the cold spring light. The body of water has many meanings. It was inspired by a holy spring in Llanrhaeadr, St Dyfnog's Well, a mystical place that I am drawn to. The painting bears the scars of reworking as the image and its meaning revealed itself to me, as with much of my work. I don't hide this struggle, which is part of the process, a bit like kintsugi.
This painting is about a cold winter swim one morning, when the flat light meant nothing felt attached to the earth. The painting tries to capture a brief moment in time and also to narrate a story that is both intensely personal and yet wholly universal, part of the human experience.
I visited St Dyfnog’s Well in April 2022 after it had emerged as a recurring theme in two earlier works. Forest Bathing describes the sensation of being held within what feels like a natural bowl, encircled by the trees which grow up the steep sides of the ravine, with water flowing from the spring, and wood anemones and other forest plants carpeting the ground beneath. The image represents an acceptance that there can be no return to a place and time long passed, with the spring and running water signifying hope.
I painted this view of my garden after planting more trees and wild flowers over the winter of 2020/21, and creating a mound along permaculture principals. The mound is also a nod to the past; to the ancient burial mounds which dot the English landscape where I now live, and to the landscape of my childhood in North Wales, which included land forms in formal gardens, laid out centuries ago by Stephen Switzer. Today, I take a childlike delight in my small mound and urban vista. The process of re-creating my garden inspired me to resume large scale studio painting after many years, and this was the first of these paintings. My garden is now a constant inspiration. The mound was still almost bare earth in places back then, and now, changing with the seasons, it is always buzzing with life.
This is my experience of an evening walk in the Chilterns. As the sun dips, a hyper-reality emerges; the colours intensify, the shadows deepen, and the profusion of wild flowers and trees take on an added solidity or dimension, backlit, with the swallows zooming in and out. And above, the clouds so heavy they too have a heightened solidity, as if they might fall down from the sky, like boulders. Based on a small painting of the same place from the summer before, the passage of time between the two paintings lent particular poignancy to this later work.
This painting remembers an idyllic stay in Wales in July 2020, which I painted a year later, based on sketches, photographs, and memories tinged with nostalgia. It tells the story of some events during that intervening year, as a way of processing those events and letting them go.
This view from my studio window captures a brief moment one cold February morning as the sun rose and turned the sky golden. I am often transfixed by the light effects on the houses across the street, as the sun moves over the sky. I wanted to share a sense of deep calm and simple joy in the daybreak, a fresh start. The title references the Broadway Musical number, sung with such genius by Nina Simone, and which played on repeat in my head while I painted this.
One of many sketches of myself and others
I've tried to capture the essence of my daughter Ellie in this paint study from my perspective as her mother; her strength, stillness and beauty and also a sense of mystery, because as an adult, she is now separate from me and travelling a path that will be always a little unknown to me. The colour palette references her Mexican heritage.
White Horse at Moel Findeg is the final painting in my “Transcendence” series. It depicts one of the wild ponies at an inspirational community owned nature reserve in North Wales where I find peace. It was hard to finish but I later came to understand that the white horse symbolises my higher self, waiting for me to return; to overcome difficulty and despair. I learned that in early Celtic symbolism, geese represent protection of family and speaking out against injustice.
I painted this image in a meditative way to recall happy times and places, to bring peace of mind into present reality and share that with others. The rainbow around the sun is something I saw on my travels in Tibet when I was young, although the landscape is a Welsh one, painted from sketches from earlier in the year, and from many overlapping memories of that much loved place. The photos are of my first encounter with Tibetan Buddhism, during an unexpected stay at a monastery in the late '90s. The title references the book of similar name by Richard Llewellyn. It is a way of saying that in the inner world, the grass can be always green.
I began this painting of St Dyfnog's Well as an act of prayer. Over summer, the painting remained unfinished on my easel, though the prayer continued. Then, in September, a situation that had at times felt hopeless became a little lighter. Feeling thankful, I painted a lotus flower, symbol of light and purity, into the water, and finished the painting.
My response to a music event at a Sussex coppice wood at the beginning of May, which marked the migratory return of the nightingale. The tall trees in the background are coppiced oak. They grew into that shape when competing with other trees, hornbeams, recently harvested and regenerating from their huge, intact root systems, leaving the slender oaks towering high above. Lying in the grass that starry night, I listened to the interwoven song of woman and nightingale and was transported somewhere transcendent. The flame-like woman is both real and of the present moment, and also a ghost from past times, brought to mind by story telling around the fire that evening.
This is a woodland in spring, in Wales where I grew up but no longer live. I painted it after a visit, based on sketches and memory and photographs. It also contains elements of a woodland in Sussex where I spent time that early summer, like the deer and the nightingale and the woodsman. I have tried to capture the sense of aliveness in the plants, their humming and pulsing and being. There is also a sense of yearning for a lost place and time, a bitter sweet nostalgia.
This painting represents a step on my path towards a deeper visual expression of the life force of trees and other plants. I think of it as a plant portrait. It tries to capture the very short moment in early spring when plants emerge from dormancy with exquisite delicacy and fragility.
This painting is based on a December day at the house of a friend in the Chiltern Hills, in England. It looks for beauty in the midst of winter and re-imagines our cold water swim, paying homage to Hockney’s iconic swimming pool paintings. It is about a journey to acceptance through meditation; my red towel makes a light hearted reference to the robes of a Buddhist monk, and the kitsch summer house suggests a Buddhist temple. I stayed at a Tibetan Buddhist monastery many years ago, and was profoundly affected by the experience.
This image began as a celebration of the dogwood tree in my garden, a native species in many a hedgerow, with vibrant red bark and tender bright green leaves as they unfurl from bud. It developed into something more about the negative spaces, and what lies beyond, in the cold spring light. The body of water has many meanings. It was inspired by a holy spring in Llanrhaeadr, St Dyfnog's Well, a mystical place that I am drawn to. The painting bears the scars of reworking as the image and its meaning revealed itself to me, as with much of my work. I don't hide this struggle, which is part of the process, a bit like kintsugi.
This painting is about a cold winter swim one morning, when the flat light meant nothing felt attached to the earth. The painting tries to capture a brief moment in time and also to narrate a story that is both intensely personal and yet wholly universal, part of the human experience.
I visited St Dyfnog’s Well in April 2022 after it had emerged as a recurring theme in two earlier works. Forest Bathing describes the sensation of being held within what feels like a natural bowl, encircled by the trees which grow up the steep sides of the ravine, with water flowing from the spring, and wood anemones and other forest plants carpeting the ground beneath. The image represents an acceptance that there can be no return to a place and time long passed, with the spring and running water signifying hope.
I painted this view of my garden after planting more trees and wild flowers over the winter of 2020/21, and creating a mound along permaculture principals. The mound is also a nod to the past; to the ancient burial mounds which dot the English landscape where I now live, and to the landscape of my childhood in North Wales, which included land forms in formal gardens, laid out centuries ago by Stephen Switzer. Today, I take a childlike delight in my small mound and urban vista. The process of re-creating my garden inspired me to resume large scale studio painting after many years, and this was the first of these paintings. My garden is now a constant inspiration. The mound was still almost bare earth in places back then, and now, changing with the seasons, it is always buzzing with life.
This is my experience of an evening walk in the Chilterns. As the sun dips, a hyper-reality emerges; the colours intensify, the shadows deepen, and the profusion of wild flowers and trees take on an added solidity or dimension, backlit, with the swallows zooming in and out. And above, the clouds so heavy they too have a heightened solidity, as if they might fall down from the sky, like boulders. Based on a small painting of the same place from the summer before, the passage of time between the two paintings lent particular poignancy to this later work.
This painting remembers an idyllic stay in Wales in July 2020, which I painted a year later, based on sketches, photographs, and memories tinged with nostalgia. It tells the story of some events during that intervening year, as a way of processing those events and letting them go.
This view from my studio window captures a brief moment one cold February morning as the sun rose and turned the sky golden. I am often transfixed by the light effects on the houses across the street, as the sun moves over the sky. I wanted to share a sense of deep calm and simple joy in the daybreak, a fresh start. The title references the Broadway Musical number, sung with such genius by Nina Simone, and which played on repeat in my head while I painted this.
One of many sketches of myself and others
I've tried to capture the essence of my daughter Ellie in this paint study from my perspective as her mother; her strength, stillness and beauty and also a sense of mystery, because as an adult, she is now separate from me and travelling a path that will be always a little unknown to me. The colour palette references her Mexican heritage.
White Horse at Moel Findeg is the final painting in my “Transcendence” series. It depicts one of the wild ponies at an inspirational community owned nature reserve in North Wales where I find peace. It was hard to finish but I later came to understand that the white horse symbolises my higher self, waiting for me to return; to overcome difficulty and despair. I learned that in early Celtic symbolism, geese represent protection of family and speaking out against injustice.
