I Don’t Always Know Where It’s Going

Starting a new collection feels like stepping into the unknown, but an exciting unknown.

Often, I paint on several pieces at once, moving between them intuitively. There are days when nothing feels quite right, I end up washing everything away and starting again the next day.

It’s a process of letting go as much as it is of creating.

Sometimes, the spark comes from a single colour or a mark that feels good beneath my brush. Other times, I have a plan, a sketch of rough ideas, shapes and compositions.

 I’ve learned that the best pieces often arrive when I least expect them—unplanned, flowing naturally from the moment.

Nature is one of many inspirations in this process. My blue series from 2022/2023 was born from standing on the beaches in Wales, watching the waves roll in.

The sea became my muse, teaching me about movement, depth, and surrender.

When I begin a collection, I choose the shape and size of the pieces, deciding whether to dive in freely or plan a loose framework. Often, I start by laying down the first marks with a brush, then use water to shape and soften them.

This is where wabi-sabi becomes part of the process—allowing the water to break apart the marks, creating something raw and unexpected.

Sometimes, the water washes it all away, and I start anew. Other times, it leaves behind something imperfect but beautiful. I’ve learned to accept the outcome, embracing the element of chance as part of the piece’s story.

I let the paintings breathe.

They hang in my space, offering their stories, and I revisit them over days or weeks. Some pieces ask for more: more layers, more colour, more texture. Others ask for restraint.

The process becomes a quiet conversation—adding, removing, trusting. Metallics and contrasting colours arrive last, like whispers of light.

And then, there are moments of ease when a painting completes itself in a week.

But most of the time, it’s slower. It’s about listening. About surrendering to the natural flow and trusting the beauty that emerges, even when it’s imperfect.

Art, like life, is a practice of patience, grounding and presence. Of showing up and going for it. Of honouring the unexpected and finding beauty in what is, rather than what was planned.