my dad was an artist making art was as natural to him as breathing. his art was an effortless expression of his life.

as a child I never knew a time when he wasn’t creating art.

despite the constraints of the teaching environment in the late 1960’s, where he was  working as an English teacher and then later teaching art, he found a way to bring art & creative play into the school environment.

dad even took his sketchbooks and artists gear with him to Brittany on his honeymoon. making intricate drawings, pastels and watercolours of fishing boats and Breton houses.

books filled with pages of passionate observation of places seen for the first time. 

“fortunately my mother didn’t attempt to restrain his non-conformism or try to stop him painting.”

he had a dirty laugh. and always enjoyed the company of his friends with a drink and the occasional cigarillo.

when he entered a room people relaxed & smiled.