I have been deploying the elements of the recent landscape in varying formats; seeing what happens when things used to make a squarish painting are reused in a circular format, or when a horizontal format is replaced with an upright one.


It is less about painting things seen than looking at how those elements that arise in the painting process in the studio can be used to transfigure experience into paint. The drawings supply a vocabulary or lexicon rather than acting an aide memoire to reconstructing a ‘scene’.


There is a difference between making a picture and making a painting.


I can’t deny that my subject matter is landscape, and a very particular one close to the studio. The paintings are generated by and measured against the experience of walking in the landscape, a degree of personal knowledge and history of the places I go and the process of observation set down in drawings.

But the paintings exist parallel to the landscape in a metaphoric relation to it. They are firstly made and judged as paintings independent of subject. I’m not sure they are ‘about’ the landscape but they are enabled by close and sustained contact with the particular.


they are indeed landscape paintings and come about by being very familiar with a certain set of motifs and subjects and by being open to being continually transfixed by the same things rather than be bored (although being bored is a useful response too). The paintings that emerge are about all sorts of things, the subject matter not necessarily being the most important.


Doubt accompanies all you do as a painter, at least if you think about what it is you are doing. There are times when everything works and makes sense, but there are other times when you question even the simplest things you do and the whole business seems to fall apart.

I have been thinking about the processes I go through to sustain the work in the studio; walking and drawing in the landscape, going to places that have to be accessed on foot, only recording with basic drawing materials on A4 paper. I never feel any one drawing is complete in itself; they are phrases or sentences in a continuing dialogue and so in order for this dialogue to continue the places need to be close to the studio. And then I think that there is nothing that is familiar, the longer you look the stranger it all becomes; you cannot exhaust the world.

Then the doubts come in….

Am I unnecessarily limiting what I do by having a narrow subject. In positive times I think the narrow and familiar allows me to be freed from topography, allowing the close observation of the particular to be about painting and other important stuff and not just what something looks like. At other times I question whether limiting the source also limits the outcome, whether the work is tied too much to a specific place and the outcomes are then seen as regional or provincial.

I  try not to talk about the paintings in terms of landscape but as painting - the landscape being the painting.

I do like the tenacity and single-mindedness of Constable…


Since October I have walking further and looking at new places I haven’t worked from before. It is still the coastal Essex marshes and seawalls, so the same things, but as if seen anew. With the added bonus that the further you walk the fewer people you see. I think I have only met two people since October! 

Now, as I work in the studio, it is about keeping that renewed vision fresh. Freshness of vision is hard won; it is not achieved by constantly changing subject matter. That kind of freshness is only superficial. Rather it is found on the further side of familiarity, even boredom, and is about having seen and observed in depth and THEN seeing it as if for the first time. The way a word said over and over suddenly becomes very strange…


I have been going for long walks along the seawall. There is a four mile stretch that is almost inaccessible except on foot. Hovering on the near horizon, beyond creeks and salt marsh, is Skipper’s Island, now uninhabited and with a breached seawall, it appears as two low wooded islands. 

As is usual, I have been making small A4 drawings and dissecting these in the studio to see what is available to use in painting. I like the horizontal banding of the saltings and the low hump of the island floating on the horizon. I have started making several paintings on paper. This is a landscape I made watercolours of 20 years ago and it is surprising how some of the things I do now summon up images from that time. But I don’t want to go back, I want to go forward into the uncharted…


I think this painting and I might nearly have finished with each other. It has been a long haul. Above is how it was in mid July. I think things changing and things happening over time have become part of what the painting is but I have also tried to allow the painting to dictate its own direction. The final painting now looks like this. It is titled Midsummer:

I made some watercolours a few weeks ago to try to see what was going on in the painting. These helped simplify and clarify things.

I am now out drawing again seeing what other paths I might take. From these drawings I have been making pieces on paper looking at the buildings on a nearby quay and the boat sheds in a local yard. I have also been back to the saltings redrawing the creeks and sluices filling and emptying with the tides. In the past couple of days I have been drawing the paths and slopes of the concrete sea defences…



Still feeling rather at sea with painting but trying to enjoy the freedom that this gives. When you are not painting there is a feeling that you could do anything; but when you start painting a logic develops that starts to direct the way forward. I’m trying to consciously lean towards freedom and away from direction and just follow where things go. This big two part painting has been in slow progress all winter and I feel I know it far too well. Frustrated, last week I overlaid it with a different image and I like it better already. It seems to point to somewhere I don’t know…

Post Exhibition

Starting back in the studio after a big exhibition is always difficult. There is an inevitable feeling of deflation after an exhibition, a sense of ‘…is that it?’. And it is not easy just to reengage with work where you left off. There is a feeling of drift which I am trying to be OK with and use as a positive. So I have been working on several things without much thought about where they will go. I started walking at Manningtree, along the river bank behind the industrial estate and under the rail bridge, making drawings and some studio paintings on paper.

I have also returned to this big diptych I have been working on through the winter realising it had become too complicated and a bit of a fiesta. I reworked some of the bigger pieces on paper that I made for it and then worked back into the canvases. All a bit open-ended at the moment…

I have also been drawing near Kirby Quay where the water running out through a sluice at low tide has kept clear a big double curved channel through the saltings.

It looks like I know what I’m doing but it doesn’t feel much like it at the moment. Maybe that is not such a bad thing…