We make sense of a shape even when we are presented with only parts of the shape information, even when the colours change, when the markings change or the context. The collection seeks to use colour, layering and mark making to create the familiar from the unfamiliar. Always rooted in observations from the everyday, the playful forms emerge from what appears to be chaos, encouraging you to take time to slow down and look more closely at the details. Maybe you wonder what lies beneath the surface, what came before and why. They are a metaphor for making sense in this, often, nonsensical erratic world. 

This first edition of birds and animals is based on the glimpses of creatures regularly encountered in my garden and on my walks, sometimes fleeting patterns or shadows out of the corner of my eye, or the swoosh of the tail, or a small rustle.

There is more held energy in inanimate objects than we credit. The Not So Still Life collection begins with this thought, that still life is not so still after all.

Objects get moved, nudged while cleaning, rearranged for dinner, quietly forgotten or passed around the table. Vessels that once held tea, flowers or keys find their way to the back of a cupboard, or on to someone else entirely. Yet something of their presence lingers, in memory, in habit, in the space they leave behind.

These works explore that held energy, the layered history of ordinary objects, and the way materials themselves, drawing showing through paint, collage fragments surfacing beneath, can speak to what lies beneath the surface of familiar things.

This body of work explores the uneasy dialogue between human progress and the persistence of the natural world. 

“Turner’s Afterglow / No Fixed Horizon / Darkling Ground” is a triptych that reflects on the uneasy splurge of contemporary development across the West Sussex landscape and far beyond. These works use layered mark and structure to examine how building, planning and infrastructure inscribe themselves across land, and the twisting growth of the habitat, like nettles through fencing.

A series of smaller panels act as glimpses or fragments, like field notes caught in passing. The collection moves between the monumental and the miniature, questioning how landscapes are claimed, altered, and remembered, and whether nature, despite all, continues to find its way through.

This suite traces the transformation of a workshop site into a garden, a shift from labour and demolition towards ecology and renewal, all the while tracking the changing light of the seasons. Along the way, overlooked presences became central: scaffolding casting improbable silhouettes, wheelbarrows stacked and repurposed, bags of rubble accumulating like temporary monuments. Ordinary tools creating new forms as the weather and light shifts.

The paintings are not depictions but layered impressions. Transparent washes, scaffold-like grids, and gestural sweeps mark out a place in flux, caught between dismantling and reimagining. The palette moves from the bright, acidic tones of spring growth pressing against residue, to the darker registers of night or indeed the weather, when forms dissolve into shadow.

Together, the works map a threshold, between demolition and nature, function and imagination. They dwell in the tension of a tipping point: the fragile moment when a building site becomes something else.