I joined Little Van Gogh’s list of artists in June 2019 with 11 paintings from my plant series. At the time this subject was brand new territory for me. I was still working a lot out, which you can see in the paintings - some of them have a clunky awkwardness that I love. 

Since then, these paintings have been installed in countless locations in the UK (mainly London). Always offices. As a company, Little Van Gogh provide an art hire facility for office spaces. There’s a new ‘solo exhibition’ that lasts two months, which is followed by a different 1o paintings by a different artist. 

It’s an interesting concept and I’ve had some wonderful installation images sent to me over the years. I see my work as very domestic, so it’s cool seeing them in corporate spaces. 

My first ever sale was the result of an exhibition in a law firm office somewhere in East London. The guy who bought it had enjoyed looking at my painting during his working day and missed it when the exhibition was over, so got in touch. That feeling stayed with me, so was a big part of why I said yes to Little Van Gogh. 

Here are a few images of the latest exhibition in Central London, sent to me this morning. 

My 2024 was a year of experimentation and self discovery. I found myself stuck in a prison of my own creation - a prison of comfort and familiarity. Trapped by a sense of safety and a healthy demand for my work, of which I am incredibly grateful.

My mind races with ideas for paintings. These images fill my imagination for a few moments, then I move on with my life - to continue with the work that is already laid out ahead of me. Instead of allowing these lofty ideas to disappear into nothingness, I decided to spend the year filling a sketchbook with inconsequential doodles and thoughts. It was a space for me to live out my big dreams in colouring pencil, not paint. Record and move on.

Somehow, along the way, I am reminded of a song written by a friend where she compared herself to a butterfly - “destined to fly, destined to die, like a butterfly”. It was a melodic song, with a darkness to it. And it re-framed the way I saw butterflies. From the symmetrical, beautiful creatures that children love to draw. An insect that is celebrated for its ability to transform from the ugly into the magnificent - fluttering through summer in full colour. A being that is represented in art so much that it almost becomes twee - somewhat akin to the Highland Cow here in Scotland. 

The way Mel sung about them, I thought of them in a tragic sort of way. They are so beautiful and fragile, with short and pointless lives. What do they really do, other than flutter about for a summer, helping maintain the life of their own species and others too. And that is the perfect metaphor for our own existence - pointless and beautiful. 

As I drew the butterflies and moths I realised that their beauty lies in their imperfection and underlying horror. It’s impressive, but also quite alarming how some species have evolved with patterns that resemble human and animal eyes.

My drawing style is usually quite tight and minimalistic, but I allowed myself to distort and warp the butterfly forms. And decided that symmetry could only exist in nature, where it is accidental and therefore pure. For my drawings and paintings, I will represent these creatures with wonkiness, asymmetry and  a curious spirit. 

The world doesn’t need any more drawings, or paintings of butterflies. And it’s exactly through those constraints that I’m hoping to discover something about myself and my art. 

In 2022 I was selected to take part in a fully funded residency with Little Van Gogh. The award included accommodation and studio space in a beautiful village within New Forest National Park. 

You can read an interview reflecting on the experience here.