Shaping the Wind - an Artist’s Year
This past year was the year when I felt myself truly taking on the mantle of artist, and finding that the description fit. Only a year before, I had stumbled over saying that I was a wildlife artist for the first time, and the person I spoke the words to gently teased me that I needed to work on my delivery. Back then, the mantle felt too lofty for me and for what I did. Now, I wonder at that. Now, it is exactly the right word.
Something fundamental shifted for me last year. I began to commit to my art at another level, gaining confidence with each painting as I explored subjects, themes, and even sizes of work beyond anything I had attempted before. As I look back on 2025, I’m aware that what stays with me most is not a list of achievements, but a feeling — of movement, of being shaped by my work just as I have been shaping it.
It has been a year of deepening into wildlife, and especially birds; of saying yes to things that stretched me beyond what I thought I could do; and of learning to trust where the making might lead.
Dance of the Avocets - this piece illustrates one of the big themes of 2025: capturing the movement, the shapes and the energy of birds in flight, as they skim the elements of water, land and air.
PAINTINGS I HAVE LOVED CREATING
The year began with preparations for my first solo exhibition at the beautiful Brantwood House, once home of John Ruskin. Being invited to create an exhibition of bird paintings — focused on the birds surrounding Brantwood and commonly found in the Lake District — felt like permission to fully step into a connection with birds that had been emerging in me over many years.
When I watch a bird, I feel as though I am witnessing a miracle — an exquisite feathered form that takes flight effortlessly, so light, so graceful, so gentle. Immersing myself in their world, learning about their lives, and observing their actions and interactions brings a deep tranquillity to my soul.
Being in the quiet of Nature, and noticing how this very quietness allows you to move from being an intruder to being accepted as a co-inhabitant within moments, also feels profoundly humbling. To see birds alighting near me, and to have my head filled with the soundscape of their song, is simply lovely.
Looking back over the work I made this year, there are certain pieces I feel especially close to — paintings that taught me something, stretched me, or seemed to evoke more than the marks on the page. Below is a small selection of these from the Brantwood Collection.
From the Brantwood Collection, clockwise from top left: Grey Heron - Rain Dancing, Goldfinch - Golden Seeds, Kestrel - Poised, Dipper - By The River, Tawny Owl - From Out of Dreams, Mallard - Iridescence, Nuthatches - Courtship, Swallows - Sky Dancers
GOING SOLO: SCALE, PLACE AND ATTENTION
Preparing for my first solo exhibition at Brantwood not only opened me further to the world of birds — and to a seam of wildlife art I am loving exploring — it also changed the scale of everything.
For the first time, I was creating a body of work that needed to fill, and hold real presence in, a substantial room. This asked for commitment, stamina, and trust in my own capacity, and marked a significant shift in how I approach my work. Part of this shift involved challenging my assumptions about watercolour and scale — something I’ll write more about soon.
Alongside the painting came research. I spent many hours at Brantwood learning about birds, but also falling in love with the grounds and atmosphere — the light, the weather, the sense of history and quiet presence of the place. Gradually, it all began to feed my work in ways I hadn’t planned but wholeheartedly welcomed.
‘Flight of the Wild Swans’ - Whooper Swans. A painting that arrived at the end of the year, as part of a new collection, ‘Air and Water’. I loved allowing land, water, air and birds to merge in this piece, evoking an atmosphere of tranquility and freedom.
BEING SEEN
One of the great gifts of exhibiting is watching people meet the paintings — and feeling the quiet thrill when someone resonates with a piece or with the body of work as a whole.
Reading the comments book at the end of the exhibition was deeply moving. Again and again, people spoke of feeling something before trying to understand it — of being drawn in, slowed down, or reminded of their own encounters with the wild. It reaffirmed for me that paintings don’t need explanation to do their work; they communicate through presence, colour, and energy.
STEPPING FULLY INTO THE ROLE
As I said at the start, a year ago, the mantle of artist still felt slightly uncomfortable to wear. This year, something settled. The role now fits — not as a label, but as a lived identity shaped through practice, risk, and showing up. I know now where the birds are taking me - somewhere up there in the wind and air is an intangible space where energy, life and motion is ever-unfolding, and I feel called to use my brush to bring this dance to the paper.
Copper and Fire - Buzzard in flight. Part of the Brantwood Collection - and one of the pieces where air, flight and feather really started to merge.
LOOKING AHEAD
I didn’t want the journey to peak and then fall flat after Brantwood. I knew I wanted to keep moving and developing — so I continued entering exhibitions, began applying for art fairs, and deepened my work. I began a daily habit of sketching to strengthen my underlying drawing skills, and this has become another quiet source of joy for me, a meditative space of observing and learning.
Toward the end of the year, I began working with Claudia Kennaugh from Art & People, who beautifully supports artists as they navigate the evolving path of their practice. It feels like a timely step — a way of meeting the next phase with clarity, support, and intention.
As I step into 2026, I’m carrying this year with me — its challenges, its confidence, and its quiet moments of joy.
One final, unexpected gift that emerged last year was you. I’ve been deeply touched by the messages from people who tell me that my paintings and newsletters have encouraged them to look more closely at the wild birds and creatures around them. Awareness of our surroundings is beautifully contagious. When we truly begin to see who we share this planet with, we cannot help but feel awe.
Thank you for being here, and for walking alongside this work as it continues to unfold.