​The first plein air painting outing of the year always feels like a fresh start, and this year began with the newly formed Jackson’s Art plein air group. On Friday, January 3rd, I rose in the dark, bundled up against a brisk -1°C, and made my way to Hampstead Heath, London. By the time we arrived, the temperature had climbed to a toasty 5°C—perfect weather for penguins or plein air painters. Despite the chill, the frost sparkled under a bright winter sun, and the intrepid few who turned up were ready to brave the elements.

I teamed up with Simon, who had his sights set on painting the Henry Moore bronze sculpture. With no firm ideas of my own, I decided the bronze was as good a subject as any.  As we trekked across the frosty heath, I congratulated myself on remembering gloves and layers but quickly regretted not bringing a seat. Standing for hours might be fine when you’re 20, but my arthritic left knee and occasionally grumpy back had other ideas.

Once I set up my easel, though, the magic of painting took over. Time and discomfort melted away as I became absorbed in the process. It’s amazing how painting can transport you—until you step back to assess your work and your body suddenly reminds you it’s not quite as young and sprightly as your spirit.

One of the unexpected joys of plein air painting is the conversations with passers-by. I used to be nervous about this, worried about being interrupted or judged. But now, I genuinely enjoy these moments. Most people are curious and wonderfully complimentary, and their kind words often provide an encouraging boost. Some even share their own artistic aspirations or fond memories of painting, which creates a lovely connection. It’s a reminder that art isn’t just about the work itself but also about the way it resonates with others.

After a couple of hours, I finished my piece and realized I was frozen solid (okay, maybe just my fingers, but it felt dramatic). I made a beeline for the cafe at Kenwood House, which, at that moment, felt like the coziest haven on earth. Sitting next to the radiator wasn’t just a preference; it was a necessity. I thawed out with a hot drink, my aches quietly reminding me that plein air painting isn’t just art—it’s endurance training.

Rather than venture back out for the afternoon session, I stayed in the café, perfectly content to trade my easel for a sketchbook. Pen and wash sketches kept my creative momentum going without requiring me to brave the cold again. Honestly, staying warm while sketching by a radiator felt like the kind of compromise that comes with age (though I’d like to remind you—I’m not that old).

At 3 pm, the group reconvened for a final meet-up. We posed for photos, shared our stories of the day, and exchanged ideas. Despite the aches and chills, there’s something deeply rewarding about plein air painting. Even though I treat these outings more like sketchbook exercises—experiments and studies rather than finished works—they’re a vital part of my creative practice.

My attention was drawn to a small group of pigeons taking the role of clean-up crew, busily scavenging cafe crumbs with the same focus and determination we’d brought to our painting. Watching their hustle reminded me of the simple joys of being present and resourceful - whether capturing a a scene on canvas or making the most of a bright winter’s day. Their antics added a playful note to an already memorable outing on the Heath.

The Jackson’s Art plein air group plans to meet every other month at different locations across the country, and I’m already looking forward to the next adventure. There’s something magical about painting outdoors, capturing a scene directly from life, engaging with curious passers-by, and (hopefully) remembering to bring a seat next time.

Here’s to more plein air adventures. What do your think about plein air painting in the winter? Please share your thoughts in the comments below. I’d love to hear from you.

As I step into the new year, I find myself reflecting on how far I’ve come since moving to Cumbria, in part to pursue my dream of being a full-time artist. In 2021, I officially registered as a self-employed professional artist with HMRC, ready to dedicate myself to this creative journey. Like any new venture, the early days brought their share of challenges. Progress in earning a stable living was slow, and I soon realized the need to explore part-time teaching opportunities to supplement my income. These efforts not only helped pay the bills but also led to unexpected growth and fulfillment.
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This past year, in particular, has been one of serendipity and opportunity—proof that chance encounters can sometimes change everything. In the spring of 2023, a simple Facebook post became the catalyst for a remarkable series of events. Hoping to find a field of bluebells to inspire my work, I reached out to my local community. A young woman named Hannah responded, introducing me to a beautiful piece of private land brimming with bluebells and gorse bushes. But it didn’t stop there. Through our conversation, I learned she was about to start a creative role at the nearby Rosehill Theatre, which in turn connected me to their Kind Futures program.
 
Kind Futures is a community initiative that fosters safe and supportive spaces for creative projects, workshops, and events. As part of their learning process, artists like myself were encouraged to step out of the studio and engage with the community. It was an experience that not only boosted my confidence but also opened new doors. I found myself leading projects that were as rewarding as they were varied: creating murals with an LGBTQ mixer group, designing a mural mosaic with an adult social group, and creating a pavement art project for HarbourFest in Whitehaven.
 
These projects gave me invaluable experience and inspired me to take on more community-focused work. My residency as an artist at the Rosehill Theatre has become a cornerstone of this aspect of my practice. Through this role, I’ve been able to provide ongoing art projects to a variety of communities, further cementing my connection to the local area and the people within it.
 
Another unexpected opportunity came when I took over a plein air painting group from an artist friend who could no longer run it. Meeting once a month on Saturdays, Lake District Plein Air has become an invaluable part of my routine. Though I might never have started the group on my own, I’m incredibly grateful for the chance to lead it. It’s not only a wonderful way to connect with other artists but also a great motivation to regularly head out and paint directly from nature—a practice that constantly inspires and invigorates my work.
 
My involvement with the charity Curious Minds further deepened my connection to community art. As part of their “Art in Rural Schools” project, Artsmark, I was invited to collaborate with schools to enhance their art curriculum whilst teachers were sent on continuous development programs.  As a result, one school even asked me to return and help deliver their curriculum using the AccessArt pathway. What could have been a daunting task—revising a 6-week hour long program for each year group into a single, 6-hour workshop—turned out to be an absolute joy. Working with children of all ages, I was inspired by their creativity, curiosity, and enthusiasm for learning.
 
To help fill financial gaps, I also began working a few days a week as a primary school teaching assistant. What initially felt like a practical solution has since become a source of unexpected joy. Supporting children in their learning has been immensely rewarding and has taught me so much along the way.
 
Amidst these varied experiences, my studio practice remains my sanctuary—my “happy place.” It is where I can recharge, reflect, and create. It’s a constant reminder of why I embarked on this journey in the first place.
 
Looking back on the past year, I see the seeds I’ve sown beginning to sprout. The opportunities and connections I’ve nurtured are showing healthy green shoots, each one holding the promise of growth and possibility. I am filled with gratitude for the people I’ve met, the projects I’ve been part of, and the lessons I’ve learned. These experiences have enriched my journey in ways I never expected.
 
As I look ahead, I feel hopeful and excited. This year will be about tending to these green shoots, watching them grow stronger, and seeing them bloom. To everyone who has been part of this journey—thank you. Your support, kindness, and collaboration have made this path all the more meaningful.
 
Here’s to a new year of creativity, community, and continued growth.
 
Have you a story to share? What seeds have you sown this past year, and what are you excited to see grow in 2025? Please share your thoughts, reflections, or dreams in the comments below! 

If you’d like to learn more about the organisations mentioned in my blog, please click on the following links: 
Rosehill Theatre
Curious Minds
Artsmark
AccessArt
Kind Futures
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​Social Media really isn’t a bad thing, It was hailed as the best thing since sliced bread for self-promoting artists when it first came out… no need for bricks and mortar galleries and if you posted and shared and commented enough well you’d go places. Not to mention the ego trip that follows when you have a gazillion followers. 

Of course all that has changed now and whilst the early adopters have reached the giddy heights of huge followers and social media influencing, many like myself are now managed and controlled by the ‘rithm. 

I have resisted it’s power… believe me. Why should I let my life, indeed my very fortune be dictated by an unknown set of numbers? Do I really need it? The fact is every little helps, no matter how little and if there is any lesson to be learned from this, it is that we cannot fully rely on only one set of circumstances.

So I find myself on the bandwagon and much as I have resisted it, I am getting comfortable with doing things I would never have thought of doing, but must be thankful I at least have a platform to use. It was not possible once upon a time.

There are so many things I still would rather not be doing; like as an artist, why can’t I just post images of my finished paintings as a when I finish them? What’s all this about posting regularly and consistently, and doing reels? Does the ‘rithm know how long it takes to prepare one of those? There just does not seem to be any middle ground. It has become an all or nothing thing.

So, what can I say…? If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em! Use it as one of the tools in your repertoire and use your website more. This is the only place where you have real control! I am under no illusion that the ‘rithm is there to help me but I will take what I can get to help my cause. Every little helps…!

So here I am, with a one minute reel posted on Instagram recently, explaining how and why I’ve had to make some changes to a current work in progress. It takes a while to get it done and edited when you are the cameraman, producer, and editor, but I have to say I do enjoy doing these things. In another life or in a parallel universe I feel I would do well in film production. The truth is when you work alone in your studio, it doesn’t hurt to talk to someone occasionally, even if it’s an imaginary person behind the camera.

I do love watching other artists at work and have a boredom threshold of about 5 minutes, so find YouTube videos tedious unless the subject is absolutely gripping and captivating, so I’ve tried to keep mine to a minute or under with captions so you can ‘listen’ in quiet mode.

Who knows? This might be the start of many good things to come….

So how have you dealt with this ‘rithm thing my fellow artists? How are you turning it to your advantage? Do share your thoughts in the comments below.

As I sit in my studio today, surrounded by the vibrant hues of my paintings, I find myself reflecting on the past year; a year that has been both challenging and exhilarating!

As a studio painter who also enjoys the freedom of plein air, the spontaneity of sketching, and the nuances of portrait painting, each canvas has brought with it its own joys and frustrations. 

For someone who was once afraid to go our painting on her own, plein air painting has become a cherished escape from studio work. My plein air outings are purely for my own gratification. It’s been a year of learning to hone my skills in the open air, learning to translate the immediacy of the moment onto my canvas whilst trying to develop a style I feel is uniquely me.

The challenge of portrait painting has been a fascinating pursuit. For a long time I’d convinced myself portraiture was something I did not enjoy.  Since then I’ve learned faces tell their own story, and with each stroke, Ive tried to unveil the character of the people I paint. This year, I’d like to extend the practice a bit more by painting more live sitters.

Looking back, it doesn’t come as a surprise that there have been triumphs and tribulations; I’ve been frustrated when things don’t quite turn out they way I expected (and the harder I tried to fix the situation, the more it evaded me) and I’ve rejoiced when things worked  out or when I’ve made a sale; sending prayers of gratitude heavenwards. Without my buyers and collectors life as a professional artist would be impossible.

We have entered a new year and I find myself standing on the threshold of new possibilities. The lessons learned in the last 12 months have hopefully paved the way for a more nuanced understanding of my practice.

In the next few months, I look forward to pushing boundaries, embracing challenges, and letting my learning guide me into as yet unchartered territories. The studio, the space I call ‘My Happy Place’ will be my sanctuary, plein air my escape, and portraiture my ongoing exploration into the human spirit. Continuing the practice of sketching will be an integral part of all this.

In addition, I am extending my journey into the realms of knowledge sharing, I eagerly anticipate running more workshops, demos, and masterclasses. The prospect of imparting my experiences to fellow enthusiasts is both exhilarating and humbling. I am thrilled to have been asked!

I’m slightly amused at myself for putting all this into words considering I am not one for making New Year resolutions but I guess it does not hurt to state some affirmations does it?

So here’s to a year of growth, inspiration, and an ever evolving artistic journey!

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Has the New Year inspired you to reflect on your aspirations? Do please comment below and let’s share our plans.

Identity is a powerful force that shapes an artist’s work, especially when we make the decision to join the ranks of professional artists. Identity influences our perspective and sometimes it even confounds us. For me, this struggle has been particularly poignant as I’ve grappled with the question of whether I’m a contemporary African artist or an English contemporary artist having now lived in the UK for  nearly 40 years. 

Recently, during a course to help me hone my social media skills, I had to write my profile as an artist and this really got me thinking;  is it about who I am as an artist, or is it about the type of art I produce?

Growing up in Ghana, I was deeply connected to my African heritage, the vibrant colours, rich history,  and diverse cultures were embedded in my identity. Art as I knew it at the time was in itself quite heavily influenced by European practice. Easel art, was still a relatively new concept and most of the influential Ghanaian artists can be traced back to a post colonial Ghana. Nevertheless, my early artistic expressions were heavily influenced by African art themes and motifs and I felt a strong sense of belonging to the African art scene.

Life brought me to the UK, and new influences and the British culture began to seep into my creative consciousness. My subject matter started to evolve, taking on broader themes and incorporating a more eclectic palette.

As I continued to create my art, I found myself at a crossroads. I questioned whether I could claim the title of contemporary African artist when my experiences and surroundings had evolved so significantly. At the same time I wondered if I could be considered an English contemporary artist when my roots held such a profound influence in my work.

Rather than allowing myself to feel confined by the struggle to choose one identity, I decided to embrace both aspects. I realised that my unique perspective could bridge cultures and create narratives between both worlds. My journey as an artist has taught me that identity is not a static concept, but a dynamic evolving force spanning both cultures and this is a strength, not a limitation. Art has the power to transcend borders and create connections. 

Then came social media! The role of social media in reflecting this identity has become both a blessing and a challenge to me. On the one hand, it offers a platform to share our work with a global audience providing exposure that was once unimaginable. However, it also intensifies the pressure to define oneself within the constraints of categories and hashtags. 

Social media platforms almost demand that artists categorize themselves; too wide a diversity dilutes the audience range and forces us to choose sides in the battle of defining who we are as artists. 

As an artist grappling with identity, I’m learning to embrace the ambiguity that social media can’t capture. I’m learning to appreciate that the essence of my work lies in it’s ability to transcend categories and speak to a diverse audience. I know this does not fit in with the algorithms but I very often have to remind myself I am an artist, not a social media junkie.

In a world where social media often equates success with viral trends and clear-cut identities, I’ve had to redefine what success means to me as an artist. It’s not about fitting into pre-defined boxes, it’s about staying true to my unique vision, and to use my art, diverse as it is - to spark conversations about identity and diversity.

As an artist, do you often struggle with your identity? Are you constrained by social media when it comes describing your art? Do drop me a line in the comments below.

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I’ve often joked if I were ever to win the lottery, I’d buy myself a large studio with a bedroom and  kitchen attached, perhaps a nice little sunny garden too. I’ve always imagined, a larger studio would house my ever growing collection of unfinished paintings, the ones I’ve been hanging on to in the hope one day I might return and complete.

Every so often as I contemplate my shrinking space, I look at some of these paintings and tell myself I really ought to make a decision about these one way or the other; complete them or get rid of them forever. I appreciate for many of us artists, quite a lot of what we produce does not actually see the light of day but is there any reason why we hang on to some of them rather for longer than we ought?

I probably start those paintings in a flash of inspired and energetic genius and then find myself losing momentum as another spark of genius hits me mid-brushstroke. Time to abandon the current painting and begin a new one before that energy also leaves me forever. 

I am sure this is not a unique situation for me and my fellow artists will testify to this with stories of their own, so seriously what should we do? What would you do? Complete the painting or leave them as they are as some kind of legacy to posterity so some psychoanalyst can perhaps explain the mind of some long departed artist to try and unravel the the story they were trying to tell? Or perhaps figure out at what point and where exactly it was they lost the momentum? Or maybe showcase the initial burst of creativity, whilst projecting their own narratives on the unfinished piece? 

Is it possible to rekindle the fires that first started the painting or do they belong to a time that is now past? As an artist, deciding whether to finish an abandoned painting can be a bit of an internal struggle. One thing I do know, you can’t force it, as we risk losing the spontaneity and authenticity, whilst leaving it unfinished might prevent it from reaching its full potential. 

Ultimately, the choice to finish a painting lies in the delicate balance between honouring the initial spark of inspiration and embracing the potential for growth and transformation. It is a struggle that requires introspection, as we ponder our original intentions and our emotional connection with the work.

So whilst I’m trying to make up my mind, my collection continues to grow and my dreams of a larger studio as elusive as my lottery win.

Tell me, as an artist how do you handle this, as a non-artist or collector, what would you say to us artists? Do please comment below and lets start the discussion.

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It looks like I’m showing off! I make a sale and I feel I have to tell the world! My heart pumps faster and my head feels lighter and I want to jump around and just hug everyone! Why? I used to be in full time employment working for someone else and every time I got my pay check I didn’t feel this excited! I’m pretty sure shop owners or contract writers don’t announce to the world they’ve sold an off the shelf item or just signed a new deal. What is it with us artists?

I guess as artists, the sale of a painting or piece of artwork is not merely a transaction but a celebration of our creativity and hard work. No matter how many times I sell a piece, I rejoice as though it were the first time. Each sale brings its own unique thrill! It’s like winning the ‘Artist Of The Universe Award’ and I just burst with excitement.

Can I even unravel my excitement? What is it that makes me feel I need to tell the world? I love my paintings and I do love creating them so how come I don’t feel like I am selling one of my children into slavery?

Well, for me I guess the first thrill is the validation and recognition I feel. Someone loves your painting so much they are ready to part with good money in exchange. Yet every sale is more than just a monetary transaction though truth being told your head is probably whizzing with the bills that can finally be paid or the materials that can now be purchased. Many artists I am sure are familiar with those periods of feast and famine.

As artists, we really do pour our heart and soul into our creation (most times anyway) and when someone appreciates it enough to purchase it, it validates our artistic journey. Each sale reinforces the belief that our art resonates with others, igniting a sense of pride  and satisfaction.

In addition, as artists we are constantly evolving, experimenting with different techniques and practicing. A sale during our ‘experimental’ period can signify a milestone in our journey and can be a testament to our growth and development so a sale could be a sign we are on the right path. This is encouraging!. 

I do believe deep down that we invest a piece of ourselves into our artwork. Most of our paintings embody our emotions, experiences, and perspectives so when a painting is sold, it forms a connection between ourselves and our buyer. I really do have a sense of joy knowing my painting has now become a part of someone else’s life, their story, and their memories. 

So yes, each sale is a personal victory, a glimpse of the effect my art has on others. With every sale I dance, I celebrate, and I embrace the thrill of being an artist. It’s a wild and wonderful journey. 

Whilst I’m celebrating, I need to put in a good word on behalf of all artists for our buyers and collectors… you are our heroes!! To all buyers and collectors we owe you a wealth of gratitude.  Your support and enthusiasm keeps us afloat both creatively and financially. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!… Keep collecting and we will keep producing.

Brushstrokes dance, a painting sold,
Colours rejoice, stories unfold,
Gratitude blooms, walls find space,
A painting’s sale, a joyous embrace. 
Thank you!


Are you an artist? How do you feel when you sell your work? Do please comment below. It would be lovely to hear from you.

A Very Happy New Year to you my lovelies. If you know me, you will have noticed I don't write my blogs regularly but have chosen to write as and when I have something to say so it would probably be worthwhile signing up to receive my blogs even though I do try to push them out to my readers.

The thing is, I'm having a real problem with this whole social media thing. I mean it does have it's uses and it's a lot more cost effective for us artists and creators these days to post something and get the odd sale out of it. The problem is, you have no real control over who sees what you post and much worse if you want to extend your reach then you have to put in a lot of time and effort... and that is my beef, it can very easily distract you from your real job!

Before I go on though, I want to say a massive thank you to friends, family, buyers, followers and more importantly the collectors of my work for your unstinted support in 2022, I very definitely would not be able to work as a full time professional artist if you had not bought my work. So Thank You!

These past few months, I have taken a bit of a back seat with social media. The reason simply is I was becoming obsessed with it. I obsessed about followers, I obsessed about reach, I obsessed about the comments I was receiving and I obsessed about the follow/unfollow thing that people do particularly on instagram; you know, they follow you, you follow them back and then they promptly unfollow you! You know that game? Well I was so obsessed I got one of those apps that tracks that sort of thing on and I promptly unfollowed unfollowers in retaliation, See what I mean? What a palaver!

And what a bind too! Unless you are one of those artists who produce daily paintings, (and there are many good ones who do), you might be like me who works on a studio piece that takes several days or weeks until it's finished, you might not always have something to share. You can I suppose share your progress on a daily basis but I no longer want to be bound by this.

I hadn't really meant to start the new year with a rant but then I don't really do new year resolutions so each new month is pretty much the same in terms of the tasks I set myself. I have determined social media is a necessary evil, I have made new friends, found new followers and even made sales from complete strangers, I want to grow my follower base organically, however slow the process and I want to lose my obsession about needing to be ever present. There are other outlets to be explored and I would prefer to dedicate some of my time to that. 

So... tell me, what's your relationship with social media and what other avenues do you have to share your wok? Please post a comment below and thanks for reading this. 



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Today is a very special day!! Twelve months ago, on the morning of 14th July 2021, I was lying on an operating table at Guy’s Hospital, London, having my left kidney removed so my sister Liz could have one. 

The journey to get to that day was a long and turbulent one but we held on in hope after every knock back knowing it would all happen in the fullness of it’s own time. 

To give a very brief background to our story, Liz was born with Sickle Cell Disease. An inherited blood disorder that results in an abnormality in the oxygen carrying protein haemoglobin found in red blood cells. The long term effect of this disease had caused her kidneys to fail and she needed a transplant to improve her quality of life. By the time we both arrived at the hospital in July 2021, Liz had been on dialysis for close on 5 years!

I did not think twice about volunteering to donate my own kidney as soon as I found out she needed one but there were a number of stumbling blocks we would encounter before we finally entered the operating theatre. The kidney clinic had been able to determine very early on that we were blood and tissue matched, not surprisingly as we are siblings but they did warn us be brace ourselves… sometimes you find out things…

Liz, however had had so many blood transfusions during the course of her illness she had antibodies and we were not matched, A direct transplant would lessen the chances of the kidney’s survival! Thankfully there were other options and we chose to join the pairing scheme. What this means basically is, they match transplant candidates with suitable living donors. So in a nutshell, all the pairing candidates are pooled and the best kidney match is found. So my kidney went to someone else so Liz could receive a better matched kidney.

The pairing scheme is run four times a year. We found a match quite quickly until further on down the line, one of the pairs pulled out and our particular chain collapsed. In the ensuing rounds we found another match and then shortly before the op, Liz was found to have a heart condition which spooked her cardiologist and the anaesthetist. The operation was called off! Then ofcourse covid struck and everything was put on hold!

Every cloud has a silver lining, during our enforced year out due to covid, Liz’s heart miraculously fixed itself and we were back on… third time luckily!

It’s taken a year for me to share this outside of close friends and family mostly because there can be complications after this sort of surgery and I wanted to tell the uncomplicated story after all the kinks had been ironed out. 

Secondly, my close family and friends hailed me as some kind of hero and much as I appreciated their sentiments, I was extremely uncomfortable with this. I didn’t do it for praise, I honestly didn’t, and I don’t even believe I was that brave. I just did it because it really needed to be done and I wanted to do it so my sister could have a better quality of life. I did it because I have lived with sickle cell sufferers all my life and for some, all their lives. My brothers Gabriel (36) and David (61) both lost their lives to complications of this awful blood disorder. I just wanted to help and I knew I could help!

The real reason for sharing this though is, stories like this need to be told to potential living donors, especially  to those amongst the BAME (Black and Minority Ethnics) community. The greatest need for living kidneys is amongst this group and the least number of contributions sadly come from this group. The waiting list for a kidney amongst the BAME community is much much longer than it needs to be.

Am I proud of myself? Yes! Hugely so, and very thankful that I was able to do this. It has made a lot of difference to Liz’s life and sometime during the August bank holiday, when she comes to visit me in the Lake District, I’d like us to go up to the Honister Pass and hold our hands up high in victorious praise and thanksgiving. That is my dream!

Do please please think about it, and if you are in a position to do something about it… Go For It!! 

If you have a similar story to share, please do so in the comments below… and thank you in advance. You should be very proud of yourself. 

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