As a small child I spent hours in the garden absorbed in making patterns and shapes with mud, water stones and plants, and arranging fragments of coloured glass, captivated by the effects of light falling on their surfaces.
Now when I paint a picture I am engaged in much the same activity, although these days what inspires me may be part of an image in one of my photographs, a mood created by a poem or piece of music, or the way colours relate to each other.
There is often a suggestion of theatre in my work, but whether it is representational or abstract is unimportant because, although the interpretation may be very different, the elements contained within it are always the same. Contrasting colours hitting, or merging imperceptibly into one another, solid recognisable structures reflected in water or glass creating two different worlds, and the patterns and shapes of ordinary stuff.
Making an oil painting begins with the struggle to try and realise the best way of using the image in terms of pallet and composition, but at some point during the long process I abandon my preconceptions and my state of mind shifts so that the incomparable magic of the pigments and the essential substance of the original idea take over and the painting finally becomes itself.