This blog traces a journey of exploration.

When I was ten years old, the thing I loved most was drawing alone. I would lose myself in the rich landscapes of my imagination, where everything felt open and free.

Life then led me elsewhere. I spent nearly twenty years working in business and the construction industry before, quite unexpectedly, finding my way back to painting. Returning to it has felt less like picking up where I left off, and more like being born into the world for a second time.

During my year at the Royal College of Art, I picked up my brushes again and began quietly exploring my inner world. I came to know each pigment as though it were a member of the family. Through books, notes and writing, I found companionship with artists from different places and different centuries, whose thoughts and works gradually became part of my own journey.

Today, one of my greatest joys is simply standing in the National Gallery and looking at paintings. Compared with the person I was a year ago, something has changed. I no longer feel that those painters belong only to history. Through the traces of their brushstrokes, I feel that I have met them. They have not disappeared from this world; they continue to live through the work they left behind. That realisation has surprised me more than I could ever have imagined.