Seascapes and rugged landscapes.

I spent a lot of my yourth exploring the Highlands. When the rain drove us out of the mountains we would go down to the lochs and the sea.  Being on such a wild coastline where the mass of saltwater meets the land was for me deeply sensual in a felt kind of way.

Sitting, looking, studying, feeling the presence of such a vast body of fluid squeezed into an unyielding landscape.  The weight of the deep swell, the skittering light of a squall, the running of the tide. The  subtle layers of formless colours and hues.

I collect things small pebbles wood etc whilst I'm here painting I collect things to help revisit my thoughts whilst I paint.

Image-Portuairk Ardnamurchan Dusk OIl on Canvas 50x50cm

As a geography student, I would seize any opportunity to visit the Lakes for climbing and walking whenever I had the time and funds. My collection of climbing guides was old and tattered, featuring illustrations by Heaton Cooper, alongside a Wainwright book and a Gallery Guide from London. I would often find myself in Borrowdale and the Vale of Keswick, flipping through the pages showcasing Constable and Turner's depictions of the Lake District. These pioneers didn’t idly pass the time; they traversed vast distances, exploring and climbing from the valleys to the lofty fells. Together with the poets, they celebrated the area's beauty and established unwritten principles regarding the experience of the landscape.

Image, Blencathra Storm viewed from Lingholm. Oil on Board 30x24cm

The fells of the Lake District represent a tapestry of worlds, with each valley revealing its distinctive allure. At the pinnacle of Haystacks, the tarn called Innominate lies at the source of three remarkable valleys—a true gem of Lakeland. Like a revered chalice, innominate tarn reflects the clouds and sunlight as they convene and swirl in a captivating spectacle surrounding you.

It’s no surprise that Alfred Wainwright, the esteemed explorer of these fells, chose this serene spot as his final resting place.

Image: Haystacks Innominate Tarn 50x50cm Acrylics.

Morecambe Bay serves as a colossal mirror, capturing the sunlight and scattering it throughout the estuary, enveloping everything in a silvery radiance.

Like all of nature, the sea here is a mesmerizing blend of stunning beauty and hidden peril. For centuries, both monks and laypeople have navigated the ever-shifting sands to reach the Christian Abbey nestled along the shore. On certain days, the serene surface of the water masks the danger of the vast, roiling tide. The experience of sitting, watching, and immersing oneself in such a boundless stretch of tranquil water is truly unmatched. The gentle undulations of the water remind us of its crucial role within the natural world, while the sea's nuances create a vibrant spectrum of colors across the expansive landscape. Oils serve as an excellent medium to encapsulate this essence.

Image Cumulus Rising Allonby Bay oil on canvas 106x76cm.

I could easily spend hours observing the intricate patterns of clouds drifting over the moorland.

When I find myself painting on the high moor, I often become utterly engrossed. The rolling grass and ever-changing clouds present a multitude of color variations. While quick brushstrokes seem like the answer, rushing can result in errors. You risk missing that fleeting sparkle of light flickering on a distant lake, the precise detail you seek to immortalize. In this setting, surrounded by grasses, the landscape resembles the ocean—seldom calm and perpetually dynamic.

As I meander through this enchanting place, I collect delicate sketches and treasured souvenirs: a nearly perfect stone from a bubbling stream, an owl’s tail feather, a Scots Pine cone, and some dried seeds from the tall grasses by the lake. Once in the studio, these keepsakes become vibrant reminders of treasured moments.

The Grane. Oil on board. 30x30cm.