I am an artist who walks. Walkers can not help but be aware of the make-up of the earth beneath their feet. Of the changing sounds, temperatures and light levels as they move through a landscape. They pass sheltered spots where tender plants flourish and others where trees are brutally sculpted by the prevailing wind  A walker knows the real distance between here and there. Walking is the basic human act of belonging on and experiencing this planet. 

I see myself as an explorer, obviously not in the heroic, man-against-the-odds sort of way, but in everyday looking, really looking, at what’s around you sort of way. Drawing sharpens looking. Every aspect of the landscape in front of you must be seen and must be considered. The spread of the boughs of a tree, or the profile of the riverbank, or whatever, must be repeated by your hand. It must be felt. Drawing is always surprising, things are often not quite how you thought they were. I learn something new every time I go out drawing.

I like to work intensely on a particular subject matter. Spending years moving around a place, be it one field or a 50 mile long footpath - whatever. Looking and drawing, looking and drawing, looking and drawing over and over again. Saturating myself in the local colours, the repeating shapes, the flora and fauna, the weather, sounds and smells of the landscape. Each drawing contains a germ of truth. Each drawing is connected to all the others. My intention is to show them all together, immersing the viewer in the landscape that I’ve spent so long looking at, moving around in and thinking about.   

Hampered only by chalk pastels, a board and some paper, I can be out all day and make several drawings. Walking-looking-drawing-writing is my way of trying to understand the landscape I’m in.

I’ve written two books, ‘Peddars Way: A Walk with Chalk’ and ‘Rivers of Norfolk’. Both accompanied exhibitions of the drawings.