I began as an illustrator before moving into oil painting, with exhibitions in London including Muse at Harrods (2011) and Out of Work Angels in Mayfair (2015).
For over twenty-five years, my wife, Gail, has been my model and muse, and the one who opened my eyes to veganism.
She said something I couldn’t argue with: her life was no more important than a sparrow’s or a dog’s. I said mine was. Gail asked why. What followed was a tumble of familiar fallacies — intelligence, history, tools, none of which bore scrutiny. They couldn’t, because I’d never really examined the question.
When Gail showed me a video of what happens on a dairy farm, that was it. I turned vegan the same day.
“Look through an animal’s eyes. There lies your humanity.” I coined that phrase not long after, and wish I’d known it sooner.
Later, Gail had another simple idea: “Why don’t you write a book?” It was the gift of someone who sees your potential when you do not. Identity found more room to breathe; expression another outlet.
Many of us inherit roles early, within families, social circles, and keep them long after they’ve stopped fitting. Growing beyond them can unsettle an old order that prefers things unchanged. What we need then is a fresh pair of knowing eyes to remind us there’s more — there always was.
Now, with my debut book Cowbells on the Kill Floor, I write with the same aim as I paint: to uncover what we ignore.