Making art requires persistence, commitment, passion, playfulness, a sense of humour and a ridiculous leap of faith. Like all worthy mythological quests, it follows a twisty road. It takes you to places you had no intention of visiting, and therein lies the adventure.
I work on paper and canvas, using acrylic paint, ink, pastels, Japanese rice papers, charcoal, found objects, and petals from my garden. Landscape and figurative elements inform my imagery, although sometimes the work is purely abstract.
As in writing, I believe a painting should hook the viewer on an emotional, intellectual or spiritual level. When people buy my work, it’s because it speaks to them: the mood, the mystery, the subject matter, the dance of colour and line, the story it tells… My grandmother used to collect art, and she told me: “I know a good painting when I see it, but I don’t buy it unless I love it.”
I take my inspiration from trees and gardens, the seasonal quality of light, the sensuality of the human body, and the raw wounds of experience. In the studio, time disappears, the subconscious mind takes over and the rest of the world falls away.