Landscapes
Portscatho Harbour
Oil on canvas 50 x 60 cms. Painted on location while staying at Portscatho, Cornwall, in November 2025. We spent a month in this lovely Cornish village, painting every day. Available - £625 (framed).
Greenwich Park IV
Acrylic, Ink and Graphite on Paper 60 x 100 cms. One of a series of monochrome landscapes of London. This piece shows a view from One Tree Hill in Greenwich Park across South East London towards the City Financial District, where I worked before quitting my job in 2004 to devote myself to art. Sold.
St Paul's from Southbank
Compressed Charcoal and Pastel on A2 Paper. St Pauls is a constant source of inspiration and this study shows one of my favourite views of the cathedral.Sold.
Millenium Bridge
Acrylic, graphite and ink on paper. 84 x 70 cms.Based on sketchbook drawings made from the beach on the southbank of the Thames at low tide. Available - £1,500 (framed).
Tree in Winter III
Acrylic, Graphite and Ink on Paper. This old tree lives in Greenwich Park, a testament to the resilience of nature. This drawing is now owned by my friends Christine and Richard. Taking inspiration from the drawing, Christine has written a short story dedicated to the tree, which you can read below.
The Tree Once upon a time in a land not so very far away was a place called Green Witch. Others did not pronounce it like that but we – the birds, the bees and especially the trees did because they knew it was a place of magic- good magic. In this land there lived a very special tree, a majestic tree, a tree so very strong and old, a tree that had seen so much. Oh, what is happening? Everything is spinning. What’s that? The tree is speaking! Let me just listen. Stop talking about you as if you are in the past, you are still there. A man called David has awakened you and made you feel very special, you want to tell him your story. Oh well, I’ll hand over and let the tree speak for himself. Thank you, I will! You say I am strong, I will continue…. I am invincible … but here I will correct you, I am not he, I am a woman, look in my branches and you will see that I am too big to ignore. Do you know I don’t think those words are mine, when you get to my age you can’t always remember details. So, the great narrator thinks I have stories to tell? Well, I do. People come to me and tell me so much. Some even hug me, not sure I like that but there you go. I listen, actually not much else I can do rooted to the spot as I am. As I listen to their stories they grow on me, they really grow on me. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin- oh dear another non original. Did I hear ‘majestic’ earlier? Well, that word takes me back, back to when I was a mere stripling. There was this red headed lad called Hal, strong and athletic he was, and he loved hunting. I guess he was someone important, always had loads of people running after him. But he was clever, and when he could get away he would come and sit next to me. I think he liked the view, after all I was nothing to look at in those days. He used to talk, not to me but to his dog. One day he was very sad, seems his brother had died, and it was going to change his life. He was going to be a king. Soon after that his dog died too; he buried him in my roots. I can still see his little bottom sticking out. I never saw Hal again- he was so lovely- I do hope he had a happy marriage. Hunting has always gone on around here and to be honest my sympathies are with the animals. I have sheltered many in my boughs. A real shame about that boar though, I really tried to help him but I got confused with what the hunters were shouting. I was still learning Dutch at the time and got it wrong. Never mind, he lives happily in my branches now. Birds too used to come and twitter away. There was one time when there were so many I could barely hold them, ‘How popular I am’ I thought but then I realised they were here for the crumbs dropped by the workers from the biscuit factory. Goodness, another memory is coming. What sort of birds were they? Wrens? Oh no, silly me Wren was a man and goodness me, didn’t he change things. In later times I remember a lot of sailors, I suppose they were hunters of a type too, more hunters of men though. They were always marching past singing ‘Jolly tars are our men, we’ll fight and we will conquer again and again’. One of them insisted he could see a unicorn in my branches – too much rum I think! Oh, sorry drifting off there but before I finish I must tell you about my latest story. People still seem to want to believe in fairy tales. You know the gist, princess kisses frog and he turns into a handsome prince, believe me even when they change some of them still look like frogs! Happiness is not guaranteed. Well my story is about a girl who married a prince. She was named for the huntress of legend, but sadly she was not the hunter but the hunted. Like the Lady of Shallot who was confined by a mirror this one was confined by the equally distorting camera lens. Her only escape was to dance, and dance she did, in private and in public. It was so beautiful to see, so beautiful that when she died, I shaped a bough like a slender leg in her honour. Well I am very tired now so I must rest, I want to keep standing, not like that Queen’s Oak that fell and had to have a fence put around it. But time will tell, as we all know even queens must die.
The Tree Once upon a time in a land not so very far away was a place called Green Witch. Others did not pronounce it like that but we – the birds, the bees and especially the trees did because they knew it was a place of magic- good magic. In this land there lived a very special tree, a majestic tree, a tree so very strong and old, a tree that had seen so much. Oh, what is happening? Everything is spinning. What’s that? The tree is speaking! Let me just listen. Stop talking about you as if you are in the past, you are still there. A man called David has awakened you and made you feel very special, you want to tell him your story. Oh well, I’ll hand over and let the tree speak for himself. Thank you, I will! You say I am strong, I will continue…. I am invincible … but here I will correct you, I am not he, I am a woman, look in my branches and you will see that I am too big to ignore. Do you know I don’t think those words are mine, when you get to my age you can’t always remember details. So, the great narrator thinks I have stories to tell? Well, I do. People come to me and tell me so much. Some even hug me, not sure I like that but there you go. I listen, actually not much else I can do rooted to the spot as I am. As I listen to their stories they grow on me, they really grow on me. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin- oh dear another non original. Did I hear ‘majestic’ earlier? Well, that word takes me back, back to when I was a mere stripling. There was this red headed lad called Hal, strong and athletic he was, and he loved hunting. I guess he was someone important, always had loads of people running after him. But he was clever, and when he could get away he would come and sit next to me. I think he liked the view, after all I was nothing to look at in those days. He used to talk, not to me but to his dog. One day he was very sad, seems his brother had died, and it was going to change his life. He was going to be a king. Soon after that his dog died too; he buried him in my roots. I can still see his little bottom sticking out. I never saw Hal again- he was so lovely- I do hope he had a happy marriage. Hunting has always gone on around here and to be honest my sympathies are with the animals. I have sheltered many in my boughs. A real shame about that boar though, I really tried to help him but I got confused with what the hunters were shouting. I was still learning Dutch at the time and got it wrong. Never mind, he lives happily in my branches now. Birds too used to come and twitter away. There was one time when there were so many I could barely hold them, ‘How popular I am’ I thought but then I realised they were here for the crumbs dropped by the workers from the biscuit factory. Goodness, another memory is coming. What sort of birds were they? Wrens? Oh no, silly me Wren was a man and goodness me, didn’t he change things. In later times I remember a lot of sailors, I suppose they were hunters of a type too, more hunters of men though. They were always marching past singing ‘Jolly tars are our men, we’ll fight and we will conquer again and again’. One of them insisted he could see a unicorn in my branches – too much rum I think! Oh, sorry drifting off there but before I finish I must tell you about my latest story. People still seem to want to believe in fairy tales. You know the gist, princess kisses frog and he turns into a handsome prince, believe me even when they change some of them still look like frogs! Happiness is not guaranteed. Well my story is about a girl who married a prince. She was named for the huntress of legend, but sadly she was not the hunter but the hunted. Like the Lady of Shallot who was confined by a mirror this one was confined by the equally distorting camera lens. Her only escape was to dance, and dance she did, in private and in public. It was so beautiful to see, so beautiful that when she died, I shaped a bough like a slender leg in her honour. Well I am very tired now so I must rest, I want to keep standing, not like that Queen’s Oak that fell and had to have a fence put around it. But time will tell, as we all know even queens must die.
Thames at Hungerford Bridge
Acrylic, graphite and ink on paper 60 x 100 cms. One of my Thames Series of monochrome pieces based on the Thames as it flows through London. The initial inspiration for these pieces came from seeing the exhibition of John Virtue's London paintings at the National Gallery in 2005. Available - £1,725 (framed).
Thames at Cannon Street Bridge
Acrylic, Ink and Graphite on A1 Paper. In Peter Ackroyd's London The Biography (published 2000) the city is described as a living organism which defies attempts to organise and structure it. The notion of London as a living city, evolving according under its own impetus, underlies some of these monochrome works. Available - £1250 (framed).
Thames at Westminster I
Acrylic, Ink and Graphite on A1 Paper.Commissioned by a friend who works at Parliament, I wanted the turbulent sky to reflect the often stormy nature of UK politics.Sold.
Thames at Greenwhich
Acrylic, Ink and Graphite on A1 Paper 60 x 100 cms. In this work I was interested in the contrast between the new structures on the far bank of the Thames, in particular the O2, and the now disused coal jetty at the Greenwich Power Station in the foreground.Available - £1,500 (framed).
Cliffs at Portscatho, Stormy Sea
Oil on Board 40 x 30 cms. Another 'plein air' painting from my stay in Portscatho in November 2025. I was drawn here to the abstract shapes of the rocks in the foreground.Sold.
Cliffs at Portscatho
Acrylic on Paper 25 x 30 cms. Available - £375 (framed).
All Saints Church, Blackheath
Oil on canvas 50 x 70 cms. All Saints Church dominates the view of Blackheath. Painted from drawings made on the Heath, this was painted during one of the increasingly frequent hot dry spells that we are now getting in Southern England, when the Heath was very dry and parched.Available - £625 (framed).
Seiser Alm (Dolomites)
Oil on canvas 60 x 50. Painted from drawings made on a winter visit to this beautiful part of the dolomites. Sold.