A baby boomer, born into end of empire, bomb damaged, coal dust scented, grey world of a 1950’s Britain, caught between grief, rationing and yearning for something better, my love of creativity has been with me since I could hold a crayon.

Fast forward to the post Beatles early 70’s and my childhood-teenage dream of going to Art School, as they were then known, came true when West Sussex College of Art and Design introduced me to the perfume of Gauloises and damp greatcoats, charity shop couture, Tolkien, Mervyn Peake and the Tibetan Book of the Dead, with a David Bowie soundtrack and of course recreational relaxants of the time, not forgetting working on Art sometimes.

Since then superficially the world has changed beyond comprehension, but eternal truths of beauty, truth and human experience are as they always were. And so it is with me, grey hair and weakened muscles have not diminished my desire to create, in fact my mind has more ideas than room to hold them, hence notes to myself everywhere. When not obsessing about work I can often be found mooching in galleries, hiding in cinemas or getting lost in lazy contemplation of how great nature is at consistently creating breath taking beauty.

My time such as is left to me is currently divided between Yorkshire and London.

Patric