My landscape inspired abstract paintings are deeply rooted in real places, even though they are abstract. Coastlines, moorland, shifting weather – these are the things that feed my work and find their way into every canvas I make.
Watching the land meet the sky
I’m endlessly fascinated by horizons: the line where land or sea meets sky. On the coast, colours can change minute by minute – a band of lemon light under heavy cloud, a strip of turquoise water, distant headlands turned violet by haze.
When I walk, I’m not just looking for “nice views”. I’m paying attention to the way shapes stack, the rhythm of hills, the way a cloud bank echoes a shoreline. Those structures often find their way into the bones of a painting.
Translating, not copying
Back in the studio, I rarely work from a single photograph. Instead I’m translating a memory of being there. I might start with loose washes of colour that capture the general light – a storm moving in, late evening glow, the soft flatness of a grey day – then build up marks that hint at landforms without tying them down too literally.
A curve of colour might suggest a bay, a vertical streak might echo rain or cliffs. The aim isn’t to produce a map, but to create something that feels like standing in that weather, in that place.
The role of colour
Colour is often the first thing I remember: the unexpected teal in a winter sea, the burnt orange of bracken, the bruised blues of distant hills. In the studio, I’ll push those hues a little further, letting them interact in ways that heighten the emotion of the scene.
That’s why you’ll often see warm oranges and reds flickering against cool blues in my paintings – they reference those moments when the last light hits the landscape before everything slips into dusk.
Inviting your own memories
One of my favourite responses to a painting is, “That reminds me of…” followed by a place I’ve never been. An abstract landscape leaves room for your own experiences to surface.
My coastal and moorland pieces may begin in specific locations, but once they’re finished, they’re no longer just “mine”. They become windows you can look through, bringing your own stories and landscapes with you.
