Trees
I paint trees because they feel like companions rather than subjects. When I’m working, I’m not trying to describe what a tree looks like, I’m responding to how it feels to stand near one, to notice its quiet persistence, its generosity with shade, colour, and time.
Colour leads the way for me. I let it carry mood, memory, and movement, allowing each tree to emerge slowly, intuitively. Some feel playful, others grounded or contemplative. None are fixed.
They shift as I work, much like trees do themselves, adapting, leaning, reaching.
These paintings are not about a specific time or place. They come from moments of looking and being still long enough to notice small changes: light moving through leaves, branches holding space, the sense that something steady is present even when everything else feels in motion. Painting them is a way of paying attention, and of staying connected.
Together, this series feels like a quiet conversation - between colour and form, between the trees and myself, and hopefully between the work and whoever spends time with it.
“The landscape thinks itself in me, and I am its consciousness.”
Paul Cézanne