THE CALL OF THE MOUNTAINS: FINDING MY SUBJECT

I'm often asked why I paint mountainous landscapes (which is not something I've always done), and my answers vary depending on my mood or the person I'm speaking with. I might say, "I feel immense comfort being surrounded by mountains," or "they are so dramatic and ever-changing that you can never tire of them." These are just some of my usual responses, but the reasons are much more complex than the physical impact mountains have on me. The mountains are where my soul feels at home, but truly embracing them through painting has been a long, heart-wrenching journey, with processes that are constantly evolving.

The natural world, particularly the mountains, has always been a part of me from as far back as I can remember, though they haven't always been the central focus of my work. Initially, my work concentrated on the negative impact humans have on the world, reflecting my anger (which persists) about how we treat both nature and each other. The concept of painting the wilderness of the mountains was never appealing to me because they were my sanctuary, sacred and distinct from my everyday life and emotions. It wasn't until I grew weary of my late father's persistent requests to paint his cherished Welsh Mountains that I relented and started painting what I loved to see, rather than what I despised. I didn't immediately fall in love with painting landscapes; I constantly struggled to balance representation and emotion (a challenge that still haunts me), but I could feel myself genuinely falling in love with painting.

It wasn't until my Father's passing that I truly delved into painting the mountains, using creation as a means to process my grief. Each visit to the mountains allowed me to absorb everything and recall many significant memories, so when I painted in the studio, every piece became a physical embodiment of my emotions. My painting style began to evolve; I stopped displaying the photos and drawings from my time with the majestic landscapes in the studio, choosing instead to hide them and be alone with my thoughts and feelings. It became evident that this was linked to losing my Father—unable to see him physically, I was left with only memories and emotions to comprehend this immense mountain called grief. A mountain not meant to be summited; you find yourself on it, learning to pause, take in the view, and remember how far you've come.

Reflecting on the various subjects I've concentrated on over the years, there's always been a profound underlying sense of loss driving my creativity, whether it's the global loss of the natural world, the gradual process of erosion, or the more personal journey of grieving. Currently, I've discovered that painting land-giants and the awe-inspiring weather surrounding them helps me seek inner peace. The urge to explore and understand loss is diminishing, yet I don't believe it will ever completely leave me. There will always be a link to my past when I explore the mountains, as they are ancient natural giants that provide me with a deep-rooted personal connection to all those I've lost.

The journey with painting is ongoing, and I never want it to end (like a mountain where reaching the peak is not possible). It's a continually evolving entity, and I'm eager to see where it will lead me in the future. At the moment, I can't imagine ever getting tired of exploring the mountains; they have been a comforting constant in my life.