Seaford Sunday

Seaford Sunday

No “Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir” and the only stately galleons were the rain squalls sailing majestically up the Channel as I walk the shingle shore. Closer to the water the smaller stones glistened like “diamonds, emeralds, amethysts, topazes, and...
Golden Light

Golden Light

Golden light greets me when I open the curtains first thing in the morning, the low sun casting long shadows and lighting the edges of the trees. Glorious soundtrack of birdsong as the dawn paints the aircraft contrails pink in a sky studded with stars and a glowing...
Good Morning

Good Morning

Every morning I take the same photograph down the garden. Times vary between around six until as late as ten, but whenever I’m here the routine applies when I get up. Some mornings it’s a hasty snap as the rain comes down. Sometimes I wait until dressed and wrapped up...
Processed Buddleia

Processed Buddleia

It started, as most paintings do, with a walk. A regular cut down a ginnel (‘ginnel’ is Lancastrian, it’s known as a ‘twittern’ in Sussex speak, I’m told) on my walk into Seaford centre took me under a beautifully coloured buddleia. I took several photographs trying...
Process

Process

As I start another painting to join the growing number in the store over the garage, I remember my pride being dented when I discovered the first of my college paintings, proudly taken home to my parents, had been used to block up a hole in the garden fence. Critics...