About Me

I fell in love with art because of a pony named Master Jack. I was eight. He was my friend Mandy’s pony. I became obsessed with horses, begged for riding lessons, and that obsession led me to draw horses constantly. By age 14, I was entering art competitions in the Sunday Times newspaper. I won. Every time I entered, my drawing got published.

At 15, my mother bought me an oil painting set and Walter Foster instructional books. That was it for me. I was in. Besides horses and other animals, I fell in love with painting landscapes.

I studied Fine Art at Wits, specializing in painting. It felt right. I won a merit award at Sasol New Signatures in my fourth year—that was significant. My work was selected for the Gertrude Posel Gallery student exhibition. After graduation, I felt like a real artist.

Then life intervened. Student loans to repay. The belief that there were no viable careers for painters. So I stopped painting for twenty years.

In 2006, I came back. Something essential was missing without it. I’ve painted consistently since then, though in my spare time while working full-time. This rhythm has been necessary and sustainable.

My work exists in two distinct territories.

Landscapes. I love how light falls on the bushveld. I’m captivated by the mundane aspects of nature—a puddle reflecting sky, tree shadows across grass, the subtle colour shifts in soil and water. These paintings come from my own photographs taken during many enjoyable hikes in places all around South Africa.

During COVID lockdown in 2020, I began painting tiny art: 10cm x 15cm pieces. Worried about running out of paint during supply restrictions, I chose small as a solution. It became something I loved. Sometimes a quick study, sometimes using a magnifying glass to render extraordinary detail. I’ve sold over 20 of these miniatures to collectors. They’re quick enough to paint regularly (two weeks each), detailed enough to feel precious, priced at R1,300 with frame—and they actually sell.

Contemporary animal paintings. This obsession began in 1986 with a painting of a pig in a dining room. I’ve never stopped thinking about it. The concept is singular: wild animals inhabiting ornate domestic interiors. Baroque and Victorian furniture. Detail and realism depicting scenarios that are technically plausible but deeply unlikely.

I compose these using multiple reference photographs, create a digital composite on my laptop, then scale it to canvas using a grid transfer method. I paint primarily in oils. I’ve experimented with sand-based textures, which adds complexity and depth. These pieces take 3-4 months each.

A therapist who was temporarily storing one of my fox paintings during a house move purchased it. She told me afterward: “You were born to paint.” That sentence changed how I think about my work.

My collectors are scattered. A friend from Facebook I knew at 13. My uncle and brother in the UK. A woman in the US who once did tarot readings for me. A colleague in Spain. A stranger in Port Elizabeth. Someone in Johannesburg who found my work online, bought an abstract series, and then her sister commissioned the same series again. A therapist. Random people who connected with something in the work.

I’ve exhibited at Sasol New Signatures (2023) at the Pretoria Art Museum. I was selected as a top 25 finalist in a national art competition and exhibited at a Klerksdorp gallery. I don’t approach galleries for representation. Direct-to-collector is how I work. It suits me.

I’m currently creating limited edition A4 prints on archival matte paper using professional-grade dye-based inks (these last 10-20 years). They’re framed and ready to hang. Priced at R200-R350. They’re accessible entry points into my work.

My goal is straightforward: to generate meaningful income from painting. To support myself partially through my art, building toward a life where it’s a sustainable income, not just something I do when exhausted from my day job.

That’s what I’m working toward.