Picking Daisies

Picking Daisies

Once upon a time, long, long ago, a father taught his son to draw.  The youth showed a precocious talent. An uncle portrayed as a ‘great ape’ because he called the boy ‘monkey face’, was teased by his brothers about the drawing, and never forgave the lad. Art college...
Aftershocks

Aftershocks

Slowly, slowly I am getting back to working in the studio. I am generally an optimist, some have called me a gambler, a risk taker, but that has been my life, and has enabled me to advance both in art and design, and to succeed, fail, succeed again in business. Cancer...
What do you paint?

What do you paint?

Classic question, isn’t it? Everyone’s response when you say you paint, occasionally bitten off halfway through when the questioner realises the foolishness of asking.  “I do flower paintings” is my standard riposte to this question. An answer as misleading as the...
Another day, another poppy

Another day, another poppy

I am an early riser. I normally wake around 6.30 and wander downstairs in my dressing gown. Usually I pick up a camera and head into the garden to take my morning photograph. The camera is heavy, the back door locked, the cat demanding. The cat is given a thorough...