Why My Paintings Only Work When I Stop Trying
(aka: The Birth of Drifting Light)
Recently, there’s been a shift in my approach to painting that’s changed everything.
For months, I’ve been wrestling with a new series of seascapes. As in previous years, I began as usual—loosely exploring ideas from photos taken during our many coastal adventures. We’re keen sailors and I’ve gathered countless images both from the shore and aboard boats looking back at land. I quickly found myself immersed in a soothing palette of ocean blues, experimenting with wet-on-wet techniques to create restful layers. I was drawn to the idea of adding hints of buoys, cottages, lighthouses and winding coastal paths.
I started abstracting forms— searching for shapes and lines in lobster pots, fishing nets and the elegant lines of hulls to inspire structure or points of interest. I layered paper and canvas pieces with colour and movement, trusting that the magic ingredient of marks and compositional details would form and guide the paintings. But as it tends to have been happening lately, the moment I consciously decide to paint something I lose the thread of inspiration entirely!
I’ve recognised that whenever I set an intention to paint something specific, it’s like catching a tiger by the tail. Slippery as an eel. It’s only when I release all preconceptions and approach the canvas with an open mind, that the paintings flow. So that initial flurry of activity and layering? False starts. Those paintings now sit quietly turned away from me in the studio, waiting until I’m ready to see them again with fresh eyes and a freer heart.
I’ve learned that for me, painting needs to come from intuition, not intellect. No fixed outcome. Just a feeling, a colour combination or a single word to guide me. When I let go of the idea of painting “seascapes” and simply followed the movement and energy of blue seas and calm skies, that’s when everything shifted.
I started fresh—blank canvas, old work out of sight. I followed my inner compass. Blues flowed into greens. Peach tones emerged unexpectedly in a series of brush strokes that resembled falling blooms. And just like that, the Drifting Light series came to life.
It was extremely valuable to learn that working in sketchbooks no longer serves me.
There are only two large canvases and six smaller works on paper in the collection but each one sings with depth and beauty. I tried painting two more mid sized canvases for variety but the moment had passed! The large works have now been professionally stretched, and the paper pieces are framed in beautiful bespoke ash wood—ready for their debut at my solo show Tranquillity at Sixteen Gallery from June 26–July 2. Click to shop Drifting Light Series
If they’re still available, they’ll join me again for the farOpen Art Trail at The George in Newnham from July 5–13. I’ll be there every day and would love to hear how they resonate with you.
Next time, I’ll share how I prepare my mind to paint this way—and what’s been unfolding in the studio since. Spoiler: they’re gorgeous.
Check exhibition details here
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Releasing expectations has led to the most surprising series of work titled Tranquillity which will be unveiled at Sixteen Gallery June 26- July 2nd 2025.
Manifesting my dream gallery show and all the prep that goes into opening night! Mark your calendar, you're invited! Read how painting becomes an act of love, creating calming, soulful energy for you and your living space.
Learn how embracing uncertainty in painting nurtures creative freedom, intuition, and the joy of letting go.
