People often ask me what I’m trying to capture in my paintings. The simple truth is, I’m trying to capture the feeling of being out there—on the edge of the North York Moors—when the weather is moving fast and the light is shifting every second.
For me, the painting isn't just about what I see; it's about what I feel with my hand and the palette knife. That's why I use the impasto technique, loading the brush and the knife with thick, unapologetic colour. I want the paint itself to have the same rugged texture as the land I'm painting. When you see a bank of heather in one of my pieces, I want you to feel the scratchiness of those stalks and the strength of the wind that bends them.
I love the drama here. You see it in the skies—they’re rarely ever just blue. They’re a heavy mix of grey, white, and blue, all churning and rolling, often breaking to reveal a brilliant slash of light. And the colour! The moors are an explosion of ochre, deep greens, purple, and the shocking pinks of the heather. When I paint a sunset over a landmark like Roseberry Topping, it's all about that intense, fiery light that just bleeds across the sky. I don't care about perfect realism; I care about that raw, untamed energy.
So, when you look at my work, I hope you feel the cold air, smell the wet earth, and hear the wind sweeping across those magnificent hills. It’s my way of paying tribute to the wild, honest beauty that surrounds my studio every day.