It occurred to me that you might be interested to learn a little more about me—my life as an artist and the way I work.
Reflecting on my journey has been a revealing exercise, helping me understand who has influenced me and how my current style and practice have taken shape…
When I was a small child, only about six or seven, I told my father that I wanted a piece of my artwork hung in the Tate. Looking back, I realise that was an unusual ambition for someone so young, but even then, painting was my escape—a way to express myself.
As an only child, I led quite a solitary existence, and my imagination became my constant companion. I could often be found behind the garage making mud structures, lost in my own world.
It was the early 1960s, and in the North of England, life was still shaped by the austerity of the post-war years. Everything in our home had to be functional; things were valued for their usefulness rather than their beauty. For me, painting was a way to bring something lovely into the world—something created for joy rather than necessity.
Green Tile
My first painting—a design for a tile—received 10/10. I was 13 years old.
I was lucky that my father was incredibly supportive. He was a wonderful draughtsman himself and saw something in me. There was an excellent art shop near where he worked, and he was always bringing home materials for me to experiment with.
My mother, on the other hand, never quite saw being an artist as “a proper job.” While she didn’t actively discourage me, she was convinced my passion for art was just a phase. Even when I secured a place at Warrington Art College in 1977 to do a Foundation year, she thought it would simply “get art out of my system,” and I’d go on to do something sensible—like train as a solicitor.
She couldn’t have been more wrong. That Foundation course confirmed everything I felt: I loved art—and law was never going to be an option!
Foundation course Life drawing Age 18
Foundation Course
Life drawing, age 18
Discovering a love for drawing was a turning point—it helped me make the difficult decision about which direction to take within the world of art. That passion became the compass guiding my next steps and I found it during my Art Foundation course…
Finding my path through drawing…and a teacher in cowboy boots
The head of Fine Art at the time was a teacher named Derek Fye, who had trained at The Slade in London in the Camberwell style. Looking back, he was very much a teacher of his era. I doubt his methods would pass today. Dressed in cowboy boots and constantly puffing on a cigarette, he would stride through the studio, barking criticism and berating students without hesitation.
But his tough style kept me sharp. I was determined to prove myself, and in the end, he became the most inspirational teacher I ever had.
By then, I was completely hooked—I knew this was what I wanted to do. Far from “getting it out of my system,” I craved more. That drive led me to secure a place at Bristol Polytechnic, where I studied from 1978 to 1981.
At the time, Bristol stood out for actually teaching art, rather than simply expecting students to compile a portfolio without guidance. I believe I won my place there by boldly stating that Cezanne was my least favourite artist—only to discover on my way out that the tutor I had just spoken to had written the definitive book on Cezanne. My willingness to explain my views and speak candidly must have left an impression. Cezanne, of course, became a running joke throughout my time there.
Art became a vital part of who I am. Even when life later became full with family and work responsibilities, and I couldn’t practise my art as much as I wanted, it was always there in the background. Now, with more time, I can fully immerse myself in it again—and it has become all-consuming.