The Harbour’ (2024), 100cm x 100cm acrylic on canvas, oil stick, graphite.
This piece is all about that quiet moment just before everything starts moving — when the boats are still, the water's calm, and there's a kind of hush hanging in the air. I called it The Harbour because that’s what it felt like to me while painting it — a safe zone, a kind of visual anchoring point.
There is a section of red that reminds me of a tugboat — those tough little vessels that do all the behind-the-scenes work. They’re not flashy, but they’re vital. That pop of red gives the whole piece its heartbeat.
There’s this contrast between the open, lighter space above and the denser, grey area below — like sea meeting land, or sky reflecting in still water. It's abstract, of course, but there’s just enough suggestion of shapes to let your imagination dock where it wants.
It’s not a literal harbour, but it’s got the same energy: steady, grounded, and full of quiet purpose.
The Harbour’ (2024), 100cm x 100cm acrylic on canvas, oil stick, graphite.
This piece is all about that quiet moment just before everything starts moving — when the boats are still, the water's calm, and there's a kind of hush hanging in the air. I called it The Harbour because that’s what it felt like to me while painting it — a safe zone, a kind of visual anchoring point.
There is a section of red that reminds me of a tugboat — those tough little vessels that do all the behind-the-scenes work. They’re not flashy, but they’re vital. That pop of red gives the whole piece its heartbeat.
There’s this contrast between the open, lighter space above and the denser, grey area below — like sea meeting land, or sky reflecting in still water. It's abstract, of course, but there’s just enough suggestion of shapes to let your imagination dock where it wants.
It’s not a literal harbour, but it’s got the same energy: steady, grounded, and full of quiet purpose.
