Dancing oranges Painting

Because we walk on the earth, we tend to think we are separate. If we were rooted, like trees, we might have a different idea of our interconnection. The mystery is that both ideas are true. Each person, each tree, each wave, each golden bird is an irrepeatable marvel, while at the same time and at the same place, remaining part of everything. My paintings are silent arisings. They are the wild and jubilant dances. They are attempts to show the wonder we forget when we look at the world and its on-going creation. It all depends on where you stand. Suddenly olives appear like fireflies, birds flash before our eyes and golden suns or moons dazzle. Everything is extraordinary. Gold helps here. It crosses the bridge between the secular and the spiritual. It conjures images of money and Midas, but also Greek orthodox icons and Buddhas. Trees come into being and recede into red earth and watery sky. Seas swell into individual waves, or disappear into nothingness. A bird shoots across the sky. If we don’t pause, we’ll miss it all. What was that? That was your life, my friend. Did you notice it? I studied Latin and Greek at Oxford University, and then worked as a journalist, copy-writer and crossword setter for a few years. One Tuesday, on a wet London night, I passed the Thomas Heatherly Art School and rediscovered my love of drawing. That led to a couple of years in Florence at various ateliers, and a solo show back in London. Its success meant I gave up anagrams, and I have been painting, and etching, ever since. That was around 20 years ago. I have spent large swathes of time in Nepal, Southern India, Berlin and the west country in the UK developing my work and asking those endless existential questions. During this time I have also exhibited widely, and completed commissions for public and private clients. Recent shows have been in New York, The Bahamas, London and Munich. When I am not there, I am in Tuscany with my wife, five children and extensive array of animals.