I was born in the shadow of Pendle Hill, grew up in a Lancashire mill town and studied art in the North East (degree from Newcastle Poly then onto Sunderland Poly). Steeped in working class values, with a passion for social history and industrial heritage and armed with a dark sense of humour I have attacked a life in the arts ever since. 

My childhood was shaped by holidays in hot-as-hell caravans parked on dusty farms, seaside holidays where the wind blew sand onto your ice lolly, and a world populated by strong, terrifying, funny women who didn’t suffer fools gladly. I learned early to watch, to listen, and to notice what other people skim past — because that’s where you find the good stories. 

Like many working-class kids, I grew up in hand-me-down clothes, developing a sharp eye for detail whether I wanted to or not. I will never forget the knitted swimming cossie that just kept growing in the sea. That mixture of humour, embarrassment and endurance still finds its way into my work. 

Art was always there. At nine, I won a county-wide road safety art competition with what can only be described as a gruesome painting — subtlety was never going to be my thing. I spent years sending drawings off to Vision On, faithfully every week, only to learn much later that success might have helped if I’d included postage stamps. I learnt resilience the hard way. 

Today, I paint rural and coastal Britain — barns, farms, paths, shorelines — alongside my Owd Lasses the invisible women who deserve to be seen. My paintings are not about idealised countryside or polite nostalgia. They’re about memory, humour, grit, and the emotional pull of places and people that stay with you long after you’ve moved on. 

Colour and humour are central to everything I do. My paintings are about warmth, wit, resilience and quiet defiance. I paint for people who may live in cities now, but still feel the tug of sea air, open land, and the characters who shaped them. 

My collectors are often professionals with working-class or rural roots. They’re drawn to work that feels honest, recognisable and full of life — art that sparks conversation, raises a smile, and makes a house feel more like home. If my paintings resonate, it’s usually because they remind you of somewhere you’ve been, someone you’ve known, or a version of yourself you haven’t entirely left behind.