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 couldnʼt argue with: her life was no more important than a sparrowʼs. I said mine was. Gail asked why. What followed was a tumble of fallacies—intelligence, history, tools, the usual myths. And then, silence. Because there was nothing to say.
That moment changed everything.
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 Iʼd known it sooner.
Some time later, Gail had another brilliant idea: “Why donʼt you write a book?” One of the many questions Iʼd never asked myself. But thatʼs the gift of someone who sees your full potential when you do not. Identity found more space to breathe; expression had another outlet. Why didnʼt I think of that?
Many of us carry odd ideas about who we are. Weʼre given roles early, within families, social circles, and often keep them long after theyʼve stopped fitting. When we finally grow past them, it can unsettle the old order that wants things to stay the same.
What we need at such times is a fresh pair of knowing eyes to remind us thereʼs more; there always was. So press on.
The world expands right away.
Iʼd written before, contributing to exhibition catalogues. Writing always drew me in. I saw it as another art form, another way to reach people; one that kept asking who I was, and confirming why Iʼd long believed that was never fixed.
Now, with my debut book Cowbells on the Kill Floor, I write with the same aim as I paint: to uncover what we ignore.