Faced with mounting economic challenges, in January 2024 I came face-to-face with an inescapable truth. I could no longer remain a full-time artist if I were to meet my monthly bills. As the reality of my situation dawned on me, I felt very disappointed with myself. I believed I had failed in my life’s ambition to live as an artist. I doubted my ability and the work I produced. My self-belief took a severe knock. It was a dark day indeed. However, little did I know then that taking the step to part-time employment would bring so much more than the security of a regular monthly wage. A part of the majority So, there I was, facing this huge wall I had to clamber over. I was, as I saw it, in a financial hole of my own making and I had to get out of it. The turning point came after giving myself a severe talking to. I soon woke up to the fact that part-time employment is the enabler for a huge number of like-minded creative types. Artists and artisans throughout the UK supplement their income with other paid employment. This is a reality for a lot of people working in the Arts. According to the findings of The UK Visual Artists’ Earnings and Contracts Report 2024 , (released by the University of Glasgow, funded by the Design and Artists Copyright Society (DACS) and conducted by the Centre for Regulation of the Creative Economy (CREATe) ), 51% of the 1,200 visual artists surveyed state that due to low pay they have to supplement their income with additional work. It’s there in black and white, proven by research; I am not alone. In fact, it looks like I am part of the majority. This is also borne out of my experience working as I do now in a picture framer’s. I regularly meet other artists and makers who rely on paid part-time employment to make ends meet. Their work is outstanding, their passion unending and their desire to create unwavering. I admit, the flip side of this situation does raise other questions, further highlighted by the research report. How is it, according to the findings, when the UK Art Market, worth £9.7 billion, one of the largest in the world, the median income for visual artists is only £12,500 a year? Evidence also supports the fact that this figure equates to a 47% decrease since 2010. Definitely food for thought… While there’s undoubtedly a lot to unpack from the study’s findings, I count myself very fortunate to have found a part-time job. It’s art based, it’s local to me, it’s with a small family run business. The two days a week I work there, enable me to continue to focus on my artwork the rest of the time. It provides a regular income which has in turn removed the constant worrying about where the money is going to come from. Importantly there have been other significant benefits too; benefits I didn’t even think about during my ‘dark days’. New creative freedom Returning to my studio without the anxiety of how to pay the bills, I experienced a new sense of creative freedom. I realised I’d been limiting my creative output by sticking to a style which had sold previously. With that spectre banished, I made a conscious decision to experiment. For some time, I’d been mulling over a development in my painting style. I’d often received similar comments from visitors to my exhibitions. People were surprised to learn the paintings, prints, stained glass and fabrics on display were all by the same artist. There was a disparity in work across the different media and I wanted to see if I could somehow address that. So, with my new sense of freedom and large paintbrush in hand, I set to work. Using quick drying acrylic paint (another change for me) I worked out an idea of the composition on the new size canvases. As the composition developed, I returned to my familiar oil paint to finesse the subjects, adding detail, texture and depth to fur and foliage. The dark lines around the central forms and stylised background were inspired by the lead lines in stained glass. The linear elements and white stylised shapes of leaves and plants echo the engraved lines cut into the surface of the lino blocks. The sense of surface pattern chimed with my printed textile designs. The restrictive concern about whether it would sell was gone. I painted, I experimented and above all I enjoyed. I tweaked and changed as I went along, more concerned with having a go to see ‘what would happen if…’ rather than thinking about how many days were left that month for me to generate an income. The result was a pair of mixed media paintings on tall narrow canvases ‘The Leader’ and ‘First Steps’. The central figures, a fox and a fawn were surrounded by a lush habitat of stylised leaves and plants, living in a place caught somewhere between the real and the imagined – somewhere I hadn’t had the freedom to explore before. Exciting times Now, in March 2025 I am delighted with the creative developments of the past 12 months. Not only has the wonderful Chris Woodcock at Spencer House Gallery in Tebury featured ‘First Steps’ in her ‘Wild Things’ curated exhibition, but she has also sold both initial paintings, plus a third ‘All Ears’ and has secured a commission for a fourth painting in this series. Chris featured me in her gallery blog and placed a photo of my work alongside the article in the Wilts & Glos Standard . I truly appreciate it all and certainly could never have seen this would be the case back in January, as I sat with my head in my hands. I’m settling into my paid employment too. I like the security of the regular pay day and value the conversations with fellow artists who come into the shop. I’m learning to structure my new working week accordingly and to adjust my personal expectations regarding my productivity. I know, ours is far from an ideal world. The Arts, across the board, require grass-roots support, investment, financial backing and the respect these disciplines deserve. That has not changed. So, until that day, I am grateful for all us artists and artisans whose passion for creativity drives us on and the part-time employment which enables us to keep doing what we do. Without it, our world would lack the beauty and inspirational pieces we work hard to create. To anyone finding themselves in a similar position to the one I faced last January, my message is simple - hang on in there, you are not alone and you honestly can never know the positives which may be waiting for you.

As a painter printmaker, I spend hour after hour, day after day dedicated to creating original artwork. I love what I do and am truly grateful for the opportunity to follow the career path I’ve chosen. I’ve found printmaking a hugely rewarding path to follow, with so many techniques to get to grips with and many more yet to explore. In terms of art history, printmaking is an incredibly rich vein to tap into, with examples of work by renowned artists from Rembrandt to Hockney and many, many more besides. We are blessed to have a huge number of contemporary printmakers in the UK. Artists who are not only keeping the traditions alive but who are pushing the boundaries with experimental techniques and new materials. Talking point Ok, so I guess it’s no surprise to say it’s something of a passion of mine. Whenever I have works on show, I love chatting to people about the different printmaking methods I use (I could go on for hours!). I guess for many of us our first introduction to this artform was making lino and potato prints at school - and maybe that’s where it ended. Complications I admit, it can be disheartening to overhear someone dismiss something which has taken weeks of dedication to produce, as “just a print”. However, I’ve found this often comes from the mistaken belief that what they are looking at is a digitally printed reproduction of ‘an original’. Living in this digital age, it’s wholly understandable the term print is associated with something which has been produced electronically. To further complicate matters, the term ‘Fine Art print’ is widely used to describe giclée prints - the high quality, limited editioned, digital reproductions of paintings, which help make artworks accessible to a wider audience. Important message As a traditional printmaker, I am keen to pass on the message that lino prints, screen prints, etchings, aquatints, mezzotints etc, etc are all original artworks. They are conceived, composed and created as prints – just as they appear in all their numbered, signed and limited editioned loveliness. I never tire, when given the opportunity, to see for myself how a brief chat about an image’s creation can lift the lid on a previously unknown artform. It’s brilliant to see a person’s appreciation for a particular piece grow, just by knowing a little more about how it came into being. It also reminds us that on first look, things may not always be as they appear. More information If you’d like to find out more about some of the printmaking techniques I use click here You’ll also find information boards dotted around the gallery at my forthcoming exhibition ‘Call of the Wild’, at Corinium Museum in Cirencester (1 July to 4 September 2022). If you do happen to be at the exhibition on a day when I’m there too and would like to know more, please say hello. I’ll be very happy to have a chat – and I promise I’ll keep it short!

There’s no greater compliment for me as an artist than when someone is so captivated by my work, they to want to make a place for it in their home. Wracked with self-doubt about my ability, as many of us ‘arty types’ are, I am always incredibly humbled and outstandingly grateful for these explicit endorsements of the work I produce. Let’s face it, art is subjective. It can be hard to quantify just why a particular painting, print or sculpture speaks to us. Twenty different people can interpret the same image twenty different ways. However, as individuals we know when something captivates us to the extent, we must have it. What’s going on? What is not always apparent though, is what was going on in the head of the artist as the piece came in to being. How many times have you stood in front of a painting and thought about the artist who made it? Wouldn’t you just love to know what was going on in their minds? What made them tick? Some work needs no explanation. Its message is explicit – a reaction to a certain policy, event, or environmental issue but the image alone is not the whole picture (pardon the pun). When viewing a well-known Van Gogh painting, the treatment of the subject matter and the medium he used conveys the highly charged emotions of the man himself, even though the finished piece is a sun filled wheat field, a sunflower, or a simple chair. For most artists, it’s probably fair to say their thoughts and feelings can only be guessed at when looking at their finished work. This is especially true as time ticks by; we lose the ability to grasp meaning once obvious to the artists’ contemporaries. What hope do we have of understanding the thoughts of the artist themselves? Does it really matter? Do we need to know what was in an artist’s mind to appreciate the end result? Ultimately, I guess the answer is no, as it’s the artwork which stands the test of time. However, many of us who’ve had the opportunity to speak to people who’ve visited our exhibitions pre Covid, know from experience how talking about our approach, the inspiration and why we felt compelled to create our work, is valued by our clients. Having the insight direct from the work’s creator, adds to the experience of investing in the artwork and the artist. Put it in writing Earlier this year, I was asked to share my thoughts on what had led to the creation of some paintings a valued client had set her heart on, including ‘Autumn Icon’ pictured here. Gladly I set about my task and discovered I’d embarked on some serious soul searching. Putting my thoughts in writing not only recorded my inspiration and earnest conscious intentions as I‘d started painting but also took me right back to my childhood. Memories of losing myself in the huge, musty, art and historical books with their shiny illustrative plates which captivated me flooded back. I saw how early exposure to pictures of religious icons and illuminated manuscripts ignited my love of gilding. My love of nature found its roots in tramping through fields and bottle-feeding lambs in the barn with my grandfather. I touched on deep-seated personal regrets, and I became acutely aware that, as with many things in life, it’s our childhood experiences which shape us. Sharing my thoughts and emotions in this way with my client was valuable to us both. It brought to the fore things I instinctively felt but hadn’t necessarily articulated and resonated with what my client felt about the paintings. It re-enforced my long-held beliefs about the importance and fragility of our natural world and the creatures within it. It crystallised my intent to try to exert a subtle influence for good through the work I produce; something my client was quick to recognise and support. Please don’t get me wrong, I have no illusions of grandeur, but I do care about what I do and there is thought behind it. Richer understanding and mutual respect I know my words resonate with my client. Her intellect and insight command my respect and admiration. Our email exchange on the back of this additional interaction has led to a richer understanding and mutual respect. It’s also furnished me with the most incredible feedback which gets me back on track whenever the self-doubt takes hold (priceless). I am eternally grateful to this very special person who has placed her faith, energy, support and financial investment both in my work and in me as an artist. I thank her for asking me to share my thoughts and urge fellow artists to do the same whenever the opportunity arises. We aren’t out of the woods yet as far at Covid goes, so the valuable face-to-face conversations may still have to wait. However, taking a little time to explain in writing how your work came to be, could prove to be a very worthwhile investment for all.

I love being an artist. The joy I get from the act of creating is hard to put into words. Sometimes it’s simply the way a brushstroke is held in the plump, oily, loveliness of paint on canvas. Or, it can be the wave of excitement which bursts through me, after running a new drypoint plate through the press for the very first time. The moment when peeling back the paper reveals that rare thing - a beautifully clean, clear image - just as I imagined it to be. However, life is far from a constant stream of one high point after another. This year has thrown a fair few spanners in the works for people like me, who rely on organised events and exhibitions to make a living. It’s been the cause of much soul searching within the four walls of my little studio. ‘How long can I keep going? ‘Should I try to find a job with a regular income?’ and the big one…‘Why am doing this?’, have all bounced around my brain with alarming regularity. I know in my bones that I am driven to create; it’s something I just have to do. It’s almost like breathing. That sounds pompous I know and selfish too – but I don’t mean it like that (although the guilt over being selfish is another thing to add to the list). Then, out of the blue it happened…something which reminded me exactly why I do this. It also demonstrated the power and magical transformational qualities of art, which we, as humans, need and value. It was between lockdowns. I was lucky enough to hold a short exhibition in a lovely little Cotswold gallery. It was a grey, extremely quiet morning with very few people venturing out. The door of the gallery opened slowly; the bell announced a visitor by bouncing excitedly on its’ spring. The first things I saw were two small wheels attached to a large red shopping trolley, followed gradually by a small form wrapped in a large raincoat, plastic rain hat and the now obligatory face mask. After returning my good morning, this small, elderly lady asked in a timid voice, “Do you mind if I just have a look round? I won’t be buying anything today but after everything which is going on out there”, she sighed, “I just want to lose myself in your beautiful pictures.” I then spent the next fifteen minutes in silence, watching the transformation. Taking each piece in turn, my visitor did just as she said. I saw her looking intently at the image before her, sighing every now and then and taking an even closer look when she saw something she particularly liked. Her body language changed and step by step, her shoulders relaxed, she stood more upright and her eyes twinkled above her mask. After enthusiastic and heartfelt thanks, the lady picked up her trolley, took a deep breath and opened the door to face the day. I swear she left the gallery more energetically than she entered and she definitely had a spring in her step. So, I thank my visitor for reminding me that what I do, does indeed make a difference and all the angst of this year will be worth it in the end. When we create a piece of work, we put our heart and soul into it. While we may describe paintings, drawings and prints as two dimensional – I have seen first-hand, they are much, much more. The creation of art comes from somewhere deep down inside. It has the power to elicit strong emotional responses, lift our mood and re-energise us when times are tough. So, I am holding on to that thought as this year draws to an end. After all, what more compelling reason could there be, to keep on doing what I do?