Ending my 1 month Art Residency

The importance of a residency for me.

I love my full life, but every so often I get an intuitive nudge that I’m drifting — saying too few “no’s,” losing focus — and I need an environment that draws me back into my work. A residency offers exactly that: a space of stillness, framed by intention and investigation.

I came across The Hide while searching for places in England built upon limestone, and discovered this treasure in Pinfarthings, Gloucestershire — a forest of opportunities. A month is an ideal stretch: long enough to go deeper, short enough to push harder when the work resists. Without the usual distractions, I could focus and strengthen my confidence.

The opportunity for dialogue was invaluable. Having a “crit” a few days in — shaped my thinking. Alice was especially insightful in her feedback, offering perspectives that fuelled my time here. Conversations with another fellow artist, too, were a gift; our practices are often solitary, and finding a circle where ideas and processes can unfold doesn’t come easy.

It had been since 2022 — my last residency in Iceland — that I immersed myself in this way. That experience was magnificent, and this one has been equally rich. What I’ve gained here will flow into the work ahead. It has been one of the most creative and deeply personal experiences of recent years, and words can only reach so far.

The Hide itself is special: an artist’s family home, with studios harmonious to contemporary practice. Alice and Piers, both artists in their own right, root the residency in authenticity — Alice’s teaching, exhibitions, and membership in the Royal Society of Sculptors bring an added depth. 

The surrounding landscape, dramatic and generous, fed and motivated me daily.On my final days I walked — discovering Ruskin Mill College, a breathtaking path along the river, and lush experimental gardens. The wider area holds a strong ethos of environmental preservation: Dunkirk Mill Museum, Ruskin Mill College, and their commitment to biodiversity, ancient crafts, Steiner’s philosophy, Goethean enquiry, (interesting)!…and research into what we can contribute to the wider world.

This residency has been a gift of time, place, and perspective — one that will continue to resonate in my work long after leaving The Hide.

* Artist Residency in Gloucestershire: Drawing, Willow, and Limestone *

Art Practice Rooted in Landscape and Geology

The Hide
August 9, 2025

This year has unfolded with an incredible energy—community-focused, creatively rich, and full of meaningful connections in London. Now I’ve landed in Nailsworth, Gloucestershire, for my residency, and something quieter, deeper is beginning to take root.

Being here feels like an alignment. I’m grateful—aware that these windows of creative focus and environmental immersion are rare. And with that gratitude comes a subtle pressure: to honour the support I’ve received, the interest in my work, and my own need to feel genuinely engaged. The work must come from a place of truth and curiosity, not just productivity.

My residencies tend to begin with a kind of unraveling—mental noise dissolves, intuition steps forward. I arrived with proposals, research, and ideas, including a deep dive into the geology and quarrying history of the area. That remains a thread. But I’ve shelved it, for now, in favour of something more immediate, more bodily.

One morning, I found myself pruning the tangled willow bush just outside the studio door. Without much forethought, I began shaping a primitive structure—using low-tech, ancient methods from basketry to bind and bend the material. It felt honest. Responsive. The beginnings of something sculptural emerging from a quiet encounter with place.

What matters most to me right now is drawing. It’s the foundation—deciding whether a form wants to remain on paper, translate into painting, or take on dimensionality. I’ve been hesitant to explore three-dimensional work more fully due to the logistics of moving, storage, and shipping. But here, with space and time, I’m allowing that interest to unfold again—photographing, experimenting, and letting the process spill outward.

The environment is impossibly beautiful—steep, layered hills, dense woodlands, dry-stone walls, and homes built from the honey-coloured oolite limestone quarried below. Drawing here is becoming a kind of mapping. Not just of landscape, but of structure, body, and memory. Stone as material and metaphor. Home as a concept embedded in the cloth trade, the architecture, and the geology—solid foundations rising from deep time.

This place is a counterpoint to the urgency and density of London. Here, time bends. I walk past hedgerows, forage blackberries, trace footpaths, watch the light shift across the valley. The silence isn't empty—it’s textured. And in that stillness, my inner voice grows more audible, more certain.

In next week’s blog, I’ll begin to unpack how these threads are weaving together—drawing, material, place, and gesture.