I was recently asked to write a four page article for the quarterly magazine ‘The Faith Initiative. The article is reproduced below:

I was intrigued by this topic, the language of art. So I started by asking; what is language? Definitions online suggest it is a system or means of communication, most frequently but not always, involving words. A system for the expression of thoughts, feelings, etc, using spoken sounds or conventional symbols. So far so good. The question then becomes ‘how - or what - does art communicate’? But now there is an even trickier question ‘what is Art?’ If you look at the contemporary art scene, it’s easyto feel baffled. The traditional forms of painting, drawing and sculpture are almost overwhelmed by installation, video, conceptual, photographic, ceramic, and land art, before we even considerdigital art. I have wrestled for years with how to define art for myself.

There is clearly a deep human urge to create. Early cave paintings dating back over 50,000 years still speak to us across millennia. But I made a discovery while researching this topic. It is the phrase ‘making art’ that is significant. Art is best understood not as a static object but as something made– a verb rather than a noun. To ‘art’. And ‘to art’ is to make something with the intention of sharing an idea, an experience, or a feeling — to produce a work that hopes to register emotionally with someone else. It’s the expression of the artist’s thoughts, intuitions, emotions, or questions, sent out into the world in the hope that someone, somewhere, might feel a spark in response.

This definition means that art is not really about the medium used. Nor is it a self-contained thing. It’s one corner of a triangle – artist, artwork, and viewer. Just like a rainbow, which can only exist when sunlight, water droplets, and eyes meet in just the right way. Remove one element, and the whole thing disappears – the magic is gone. So when we start to think of art as itself a kind of ‘language’ – an attempt by the artist to communicate, to connect – then the eclectic, sometimes chaotic world of contemporary art begins to make more sense.

Singin’ the Blues

Can be hung vertically or horizontally

However, if art is indeed the “expression of the artist’s thoughts, intuitions, emotions, or questions, sent out into the world in the hope that someone, somewhere, might feel a spark in response” would you consider that Artificial Intelligence is capable of creating ‘Art’? Should we be revising our newly discovered definition? A topic for another day!

To bring this back to the personal, I have always had a very strong urge to create, and am happiest when working in my studio with paper, colours and a brush. But over time I’ve come to realise the equal importance of the third corner of the triangle – connection with others. For a while I shared and sold on Instagram and Facebook, but their algorithms have recently changed their nature, for the worse. Now I primarily rely on my website to connect me with other people. I don’t put prices on my paintings, instead I ask for a donation to the local Children’s Hospice. I’m not keen to exhibit in galleries, online or otherwise because I’d honestly rather see the money go to charity than to commission fees.

But the third corner of the triangle doesn’t have to be transactional. Comments, conversations, responses – all work as connections to make creating art meaningful for me. And I’ve tried to make it easy for people to get in touch with meand send me their comments through the website

So, to return to the original topic, what does my particular kind of art communicate? I have always been drawn to abstraction, but the very nature of abstract art makes it hard to put this into words. I believe that abstract art connects at a subliminal level, deeper than verbal language. It might stir a memory, a feeling, or a flicker of recognition in you — even if you can’t quite explain why. Something from my inner world quietly resonating with yours. That’s why responses to abstract art are so personal. And that’s the real question to ask when you look at non-representational paintings: does this connect with me? The person beside you might feel nothing at all — and that’s perfectly fine. If it speaks to you, that’s what matters. Art asks for a subjective response, and just like the artist, the viewer is a vital part of the triangle. People often ask me ‘where do you get your ideas from?’. The truth is, I don’t. I rarely start with a concept – I start with brush, colour and paper and the paintings evolve, arrive, appear – really without conscious thought. This is particularly the case with the type of mixed media art I am doing now.

‘Singin’ the Blues’, was one of the first paintings I produced in this particular style. I start with watercolour on paper, adding elements almost at random, stopping and looking to see what else is needed, and where. The process is slow and contemplative, and easy to overwork. You have to know when to stop. Step back and reflect is my constant mantra. In direct contrast, another passion of mine is language. Words have always fascinated me - the way they mould and change and fit together, the elegance of well-chosen phrases. I have collected quotes for years, specifically, aphorisms - those brief, often witty phrases that contain a sliver of wisdom. Consider for example Debbie Millman’s ‘Busy is a decision’, or Eleanor Roosevelt’s ‘Happiness is not a goal, it is a by-product’. These aren’t prescriptive slogans — they’re gentle suggestions that there might be a different way to look at life.

Until recently, though, I had never thought of including quotes in my artwork. But one day, while working on a painting ‘Dancing in the Rain’ that felt almost but-not-quite finished, I kept asking myself what was missing. Shape? Colour?Texture? Then it occurred to me — maybe what it needed was words. I hesitated. Would adding text ruin the subliminal power of the piece? Would it become too literal, too decorative? I didn’t want to make a poster — I wanted the words to feel like a natural part of the painting, something to be discovered gradually, not announced from the start. However, I did finally take the leap, holding my breath, and added this Vivian Greene quote, “Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning to dance in the rain”. And it seemed to work.

‘Dancing In The Rain’

Complete with quote

Since that first painting, I have been adding quotes to most of my paintings - even going back to revisit earlier ones. I try to use the text as part of the composition — a texture or shape that blends in, until, on closer inspection, its meaning slowly emerges. It’s been a time of trial and error – it doesn’t always work, and many paintings have had to be discarded. Sometimes quotes are bolder and more visible, see ‘Brilliant at Breakfast’, with Oscar Wilde’s quote “Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast.” Others are hidden in plain sight — like the quiet reminder in ‘Eventide’, which says, “We get to have this day.”. Buyers seem drawn to both the painting and the quote — not just the words. Holding that delicate balance is a challenge, but a joyful one. It feels as if all the different strands of my life are finally weaving together in these paintings-withquotes that I am producing; I send them out into the world hoping that the triangle will complete.

The Language of Art