In recent paintings, focusing more closely on parts and enlarging the source, the motif and surface merge and the nature of the image is free to roam.

What starts as the side of a ship suggests something outside itself, a landscape, a phrase or a process. The terms "abstract" or "realist" matter less. The paint sets its own rules. The work becomes the master, the painter the slave. The conscious search leads to an intuitive statement. Forgotten notions of Llwynbrain, a local hill, or Marros beach emerge like submarines from the undertow of memory.

When I realise a form I stop.

This is the story so far. For me painting is not dead.