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I painted my first flower at the age of three. My mum took me into the garden and said, “choose a flower to paint.” I chose a purple one, perhaps no surprise to those who know me, as purple and turquoise have followed me ever since, both in my wardrobe and in my paintings! That moment was the beginning of a lifelong devotion to nature and creativity.
Growing up in Hampshire, I was surrounded by the quiet magic of the natural world. I spent my childhood trailing behind my father in the garden with a miniature wheelbarrow, captivated by insects, petals, and the rhythm of the seasons. I grew mustard and cress on the shed windowsill, planted asters in terracotta pots, and watched the bugs with fascination. Nature wasn’t just a backdrop, it was my playground, my teacher, and my muse.
Today, I still find inspiration in my garden, where I grow wildflowers like cornflowers, corncockles, teasel, and ox-eye daisies. Teasel is a particular favourite, it attracts goldfinches in autumn, who bend the stems and feast on the seeds. These small moments of interaction between flora and fauna are the heartbeat of my work. They remind me that beauty lies in the overlooked, the fragile, and the fleeting.
My oil paintings are deeply rooted in this connection. They reflect the delicate balance of ecosystems, the resilience of wildflowers, and the intricate beauty of insects. Each piece is a meditation on nature’s quiet strength and a call to protect what is precious. I paint not to replicate what I see, but to express what I feel, the pulse of life in a leaf, the shimmer of a beetle’s wing, the sacred rhythm of the seasons.
But my journey as an artist hasn’t always been easy.
When I graduated with a Fine Art degree in 2001, I took a leap of faith. I hired a gallery space before I had any finished work. With six months to prepare, a bank loan, and a crash course in self-employment, I created 40 pieces, photographic and digitally manipulated, as I didn’t yet have a studio. That exhibition was a turning point. It was featured in the local press, and during the private view, the Director of The Farnham Maltings offered me a studio space. My career was born from courage, persistence, and a deep belief in the power of creativity.
Since then, I have been invited to become a Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts (FRSA), in recognition of my contribution to creative practice and my engagement with environmental themes. I’ve exhibited across the UK and internationally, with work held in both public and private collections. My paintings have found homes in the UK, China, Canada, and beyond. Each sale is more than a transaction, it’s a connection that I feel privileged to make. A moment where someone sees what I see, feels what I feel, and chooses to bring that emotion into their own space.
My creative process is slow, intuitive, and meditative. It begins with observation, walking through the landscape or my garden, noticing the curve of a petal, the hum of insects, the way light filters through leaves. These moments of stillness are my sanctuary. They ground me, especially in a world that often feels overwhelming and disconnected from nature.
I live with chronic pain and long-term health challenges. It’s a deeply personal part of my life, and for many years, I kept it private. But I’ve come to realise that sharing this truth helps others understand the heart behind my work. Creating art isn’t just a passion, it’s a lifeline. It’s how I process the world, how I find peace, and how I transform discomfort into beauty.
My paintings are born from this space, where pain meets purpose, and where creativity becomes a form of healing. They are expressions of resilience, hope, and the quiet power of the natural world. They are layered, textured, imperfect, and full of meaning. Each brushstroke is a conversation with the land, a way to express what words cannot.
As someone with dyslexia, I’ve often struggled to articulate the depth of my emotions through language. There are moments when the destruction of nature, the greed of society, and the disconnection between humanity and the Earth leave me heartbroken. I can’t always find the words, but I can paint. Through colour and form, I express grief, awe, hope, and fierce love for the planet. My art becomes the voice I couldn’t find.
This is why I believe art matters. It’s not just decoration, it’s communication. It’s a way to reconnect with ourselves, with each other, and with Mother Earth. In a time of ecological fragility and climate crisis, my work is a quiet protest and a hopeful offering. It’s a reminder that we are not separate from nature - we are part of it, and when we live in harmony with it, we heal ourselves too.
I have documented the changing seasons and local climate shifts through my Art Seasonally blog, drawing from life each week. These sketches inform my paintings and deepen my understanding of the natural world. They also serve as a record of how our environment is changing, how spring arrives earlier, how winters grow milder, how the absence of slugs and snails affects the birds and mammals that rely on them.
My mission is to inspire conservation through creativity. I want my work to spark curiosity, compassion, and a sense of responsibility. I want people to see the beauty in the small things, the wildflowers in forgotten fields, the insects that pollinate our crops, the moss that softens stone and to realise that protecting them is protecting ourselves.
If my paintings speak to you, I invite you to support my work. Each piece is a reflection of my journey, a celebration of nature’s resilience, and a testament to the healing power of art. By purchasing my art, you’re not just acquiring a beautiful image, you’re becoming part of a story. A story of courage, connection, and care.
Thank you for seeing the story behind the paint.
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2026 |
