The Places In Between explores the landscapes formed where memory, weather, and imagination meet. These paintings belong to no single geography, yet feel deeply familiar — a cartography of inner weather, liminal thresholds, and the quiet distances between past and future.
Gates of Dawn
Soft light gathers at the boundary between night and morning, opening the land with a quiet sense of beginning. The sky breaks gently over distant hills, the first warmth of day lifting the coolness of the hour. Nothing here announces itself loudly; instead, the landscape unfolds in slow clarity, as though remembering how to breathe.
This painting sits at the threshold — not yet the full radiance of day, but no longer darkness. It holds the fragile beauty of transition, that fleeting moment when the world seems to pause before moving forward. A dawn not only seen, but felt.
Morning Has Broken
Light drifts across the land in soft, measured tones, revealing the quiet geometry of sky and earth. This is morning at its most contemplative — a sky slowly widening, a horizon just beginning to assert itself, colour arriving with deliberate restraint.
The scene invites a kind of inward stillness. It is a portrait of the day before it awakens fully, when the world feels honest and unadorned. A place to linger in the space between waking and becoming.
March Morning
Early spring arrives with its familiar ambiguity — cool air, lingering mist, and a horizon half-hidden by shifting cloud. The land feels suspended, waiting for warmth to return, yet already holding the first hints of renewal beneath its muted colours.
This painting captures that subtle tension: the quiet before growth, the breath held between seasons. It is a landscape of patience and promise, shaped by light that seems perpetually on the edge of revealing more.
Easy Like Sunday Morning
Warm, unhurried light settles across an open landscape, softening the edges of fields and sky. The colours lean toward ease — gentle golds, warm greys, and a sky with no urgency in it. This is not a place of spectacle, but of exhalation, where the world seems to slow just enough for you to notice its quieter rhythms.
The painting holds the feeling of a morning unclaimed by obligation, shaped by memory as much as light. It is a space of gentle pause, the interval between one season and the next, one thought and another. A small, generous stillness in the middle of the week’s wider stories.
A Walk in the Clouds
Here, the land meets the sky in a soft, weightless exchange. Clouds drift low across distant ridges, their edges dissolving into pale blues and greys. The horizon stretches gently, neither firmly defined nor entirely lost, evoking the feeling of walking within the atmosphere itself.
This is a landscape shaped by air — by movement, openness, and the way light scatters through shifting weather. It holds the sense of lifting above the everyday, of entering a quieter world where clarity and dream overlap.
Highland Stream
A dark river cuts through the land with purposeful motion, its surface catching brief flashes of silvered light. Shadowed earth and low sky give the painting a sense of depth and gravity, anchoring the eye even as the water leads it forward.
The scene carries the feeling of journeys — of paths carved over time, of water shaping the world in slow, relentless ways. It is both grounded and directional, a reminder that movement can be quiet yet powerful.
Bright River
Light plays across a winding river, shifting through greens, blues, and soft reflective highlights. The landscape feels alive with subtle motion: water gliding, colour flickering, air settling gently above the scene.
This painting holds a moment of clarity — an instant when the world seems to steady itself, offering brightness without spectacle. It is a study in flow and radiance, capturing the soft luminosity that water carries so effortlessly.
Land of Plenty
Warm light settles across open fields and layered hills, creating a landscape shaped by softness and quiet abundance. The colours lean toward late afternoon tones — gold, ochre, and muted earth — giving the sense of a place touched long by sun.
There is generosity in this scene. The land feels expansive yet comforting, holding a memory of summers past and seasons returning. It is a portrait of fullness without excess, and of the quiet richness found in simple horizons.
Over the Hills and Far Away
The land unfolds in gentle rises, each hill leading the eye toward farther distances and widening sky. Blues and greens blend softly across the terrain, creating an atmosphere of steady movement and onward pull.
This is a landscape of journeying — not urgent, but deeply felt. It evokes the paths we follow toward unknown places, the call of distance, and the sense that something waits just beyond the next ridge. A painting of possibility.
Blowing In
Weather gathers at the edge of the landscape, clouds thickening and shifting as though preparing to cross the fields in a slow, deliberate sweep. Earth tones darken beneath the sky, creating a sense of tension held just before release.
The painting captures the moment when change first announces itself — subtle, unmistakable, and full of movement. It is a portrait of atmosphere in transition, where the land braces, the air cools, and the world seems to lean into the coming shift.
First Blush
The earliest light of dawn spreads gently across the land, coloring the sky in soft pinks and cool blues. The horizon glows with a quiet optimism, the kind that arrives before the world has fully stirred.
There is tenderness in this scene — a sense of beginnings, of subtle radiance, of the day offering its first, hesitant warmth. It holds the fragile beauty of the moment light touches the earth and everything feels briefly possible.
Downpour
Rain moves across the landscape in fluid, sweeping strokes, the sky darkened and the land subdued beneath it. The painting captures a storm not in its violence, but in the compelling weight and movement of falling water.
This is weather as experience — immersive, shifting, and all-encompassing. The scene feels both intense and strangely calming, a reminder that storms pass through us as much as through the world, reshaping everything they touch.
Beyond the Mirror
Soft, silvery tones blur the boundary between water and sky, creating a dreamlike horizon that feels more like memory than place. The landscape reflects inward, as though inviting the viewer to look through it rather than at it.
This painting inhabits the deepest edge of the collection — the place where external landscape becomes internal terrain. It is reflective, quiet, and intimate, a space shaped by recollection, longing, and the subtle shimmer of things half-remembered.
The Places In Between gathers the landscapes that rise not from a single geography but from the quiet seam where memory and imagination touch. These are not maps of real terrain, yet each carries the emotional weight of places lived, crossed, or longed for. They emerge from the regions where Malvern’s soft hills meet the wind-scoured wildness of Applecross, where weather becomes a language, and where a sky can tell you as much about your own interior as it does about the land beneath it.
Here, horizons shift the way memories do — part fact, part feeling, part something older than either. Light breaks through not to illuminate a specific ridge or valley but to reveal the distance between what was and what might be. These paintings dwell in that narrow, fertile space: the threshold where the world we see becomes indistinguishable from the world we remember.
Each piece in this collection is a moment of recognition. A river turning silver in the half-light, a sky folding into itself before rain, a solitary hill catching the first blush of dawn — all of them echo the landscapes that shaped you, yet none are bound to a single location. They belong to the traveller between states, the mourner of past selves, the seeker of places just beyond naming.
The Places In Between is, ultimately, a cartography of inner weather. A series of still points amid change. Landscapes that feel like the pause between breaths, or the quiet clarity that arrives just as a storm begins to pass. They offer not escape, but steadiness — a way to stand in the present while acknowledging everything that lies on either side of it.