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I could babble on about being influenced by Kandinsky’s ideas on shape and colour, or by the energy of Pollock’s line or the beauty of light on a leaf – and that would all be kind of true – but as those words tumble out, I begin to sound pretentious. That is all secondary to the simple ineffable impulse to put paint on a surface. And it won’t make you like what I do.


If I make art with the right intention, then it comes from the heart, soul…whatever you choose to call it. It gets out via my hands. I like to avoid using my brain too much when making art and looking at art. It is useless – like using a knife to cut up sunshine. It’s good only for justifying why you like something. But why do that?


It doesn’t matter what I paint – a landscape, an abstract, a figure, a still life…whether you like it or not will, I hope, depend on a feeling. A feeling that it is somehow right. Not necessarily for the next person. For you. And that is pure chance. You either like it or you don’t.


I hope you like at least some of it.

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