People often ask why hydrangeas appear so frequently in my work.
As an introverted child, I often found greater comfort in observing nature than in participating in sport or large social settings. One of the earliest flowers I remember noticing with fascination was the hydrangeas in the hedges around my school. I was captivated by its colour — the subtle shifts between blue, violet, green, and pink — and by the delicate complexity of each bloom.
Years later, after moving into a home with a large garden filled with hydrangeas, that fascination deepened. Having young kids meant a lot of time outdoors in the garden and I became increasingly aware of the intricate variations within each petal: the layered colours, shifting tones, soft textures, and sculptural forms that made the flowers feel both vibrant and fleeting.
The fluidity and transparency of watercolour allowed me to explore hydrangeas in a way that felt intuitive. Over the years, I have returned to them repeatedly — each painting becoming an exercise in close observation, patience, and layered glazing.
The process itself feels deeply meditative. Up close, the work often appears as a collection of abstract shapes, marks, and colour fragments. But slowly, through accumulation and translucency, the forms emerge and resolve into something recognisable.
For me, hydrangeas are more than a floral subject. They represent memory, stillness, quiet observation, and the extraordinary complexity found within nature’s smallest details.