I read the full story of the great Vincent Van Gogh. I was hooked. His life was interesting, absorbing, passionate and different. I would have liked to know him, had a few jugs of wine together. Hit the town for a while. The first painting I did was an abstract of his brilliant and genius Crows in a Cornfield. I thought it turned out pretty good. I then bought another canvas and this time as an exercise, copied the painting as best I could, with my developing own style starting to come out of nowhere.

After that I was on my way. I am inspired by the overwhelming power of our Universe. Its strength, its beauty, its peace, its turmoil. The creative influences of places you’ve seen, people and events. Moments in time. Memories. Lasting in the mind.

The blue tranquility of being beneath the sea, above in the sky, powerful winds, fantastic clouds, where you can see lots of images unfolding if you only just open up your mind. Far flung planets and stars, who might allready be dead. Where do we come from and where do we go? Crows in the sky, Venetian glassware and vases, the fields of Cahors and surrounding little towns, where I spent so much time, the cornfields, lavender and poppie fields, the old bridge.

The little towns of Arcambal, Flaujac- Poujols, Laroque- Des- Arcs, Saint Cirq Lapopie and the regional areas of Chateauneuf du Pape and the Dordogne. The old man in the fields gathering snails in a wire basket in early morning, beret on head yellow cigarette sticking out the corner of his mouth. Looking up at us with a wizened face, full of sunlight and missing teeth, as we shouted out Bonjour! Inspiring stuff. He waves and bends his tired body over to continue his search for those hidden treasures, lurking under the leaves.

The shouting at the French weekly markets. Prices, taste it. feel it, come closer. Cheeses, rabbits,wine, fruit, chickens, mushrooms by the hundreds, that smell of musty nuts as you pick one up to your nose. Are these safe to eat, you ask in broken French. Oui Oui, bien sur, comes the sharp reply. Goutez ceci, taste these is the call at each stall.

Looking up at the surface of the sea from underwater. Imagining. Shadows flickering in the watery distance as the sunbeams infiltrate the sea from above. Fish, startled, dissappearing into the deep blue, out of sight.

Watching the crows swirling in the sky, grey mornings, on the search. Checking each other out so that they don’t miss a trick. An opportunity. A meal.

Feeling the power of the sea on a windy and misty day. Rough, strong, unforgiving. Ever changing. Sea mists that come out of nowhere. Suddenly, engulfing, frightening.
Looking up at the sky and thinking that this is one beautiful day. Feel alive. Feel good. Feel strong.

Looking up as something catches your eye. Makes you think. A message from afar? From people no longer here on this earth. Caring for you. Always. Don’t forget them. They love you. Love them.

Looking up at the Moon and feeling comforted as to how it protects the Earth from spinning away into oblivion. Old friends from the beginning of time. Looking after each other. Hand in Hand. Joined in their dance around the sun.

Stumbling by chance into a French courtyard and being surrounded by more roses than you can imagine.

Lying on your back as a child in a field and seeing all kinds of faces in the clouds. Laughter, mocking, playing games, imagining. What do you see? Who did you tell? What did they say to you?

Fireworks rocketing, igniting the sky with colour and cascading behind a French Chateau. Wine flowing. Laughter. Wonder.

That’s only just the start of it all!