My early childhood was spent in a tiny village in, what was then, deepest Buckinghamshire. It was just after the war so there were no amenities or council playgrounds, instead our play-time was spent amongst the beech tree avenues, the horse chestnut clumps and the fruit tree orchards. Trees were our climbing frames, our swings, our hiding places and even at times out tuck shops. The big chestnut tree (which still bears my initials carved into its bark) by the telephone box was the village notice board and meeting place. The town bus stopped by it once a week and Sargent Brown the local Bobby stood under that chestnut on a Friday evening. If any of us children were naughty we were sent to see him! Such early memories are responsible, I’m guessing, for imprinting me with the love of trees.
When I was seven years old my Mother was seriously ill, this changed everything and I was bundled off to stay with an Aunt, I recall my Mother saying to this Aunt “Ann likes to paint” - so I must have started young. It was and is still true today – I do like to paint. From there I went to boarding school where I was fortunate enough to meet a very enthusiastic art teacher whose help and ideas I still refer to today. It’s a strange thought but I often think that I owe my artistic life to cancer.
I am constantly looking at the landscape around me and in particular the trees within that scenery. I feel trees have the power to create a sense of dependability, safeness, even wellbeing. I’m attracted to the way the light dances across them, the patterns they create, the rhythms and the stories they tell are what I try to portray in my work.