Darker Skies

Embracing the Darker Skies: A Shift in My Art

As an artist from York, I’ve always found solace in painting landscapes that reflect the beauty and serenity of the world around me. But lately, I’ve been drawn to something different—something a little darker, a little more unsettling. My new series of paintings features bigger, more intense skies, and I’ve noticed they seem to stir up something from my past—something from my childhood that I haven’t quite been able to shake.

I’m 45 now, and looking back, I realise how much of my art has been shaped by my experiences growing up in Yorkshire. The skies here—whether they’re soft and hazy in the summer or harsh and brooding in winter—have always played a huge role in my work. But recently, I’ve started to lean into the more foreboding side of those skies. The ones that, as a child, would send a shiver down my spine.

I remember being young and looking up at the sky just before a storm. The clouds would gather in dark, swirling masses, and everything would go still. It wasn’t just the rain or the wind that terrified me—it was the weight of the sky, how it felt like it could swallow the world whole. There was something so overwhelming about it, something that felt beyond my control. I think, in some ways, I’ve carried that feeling with me into adulthood.

Now, I’m painting those same skies—clouds that seem to stretch on forever, swirling in shades of deep purples and blacks. I’m not just capturing a storm; I’m trying to bring back that raw emotion, that feeling of vulnerability, of being small in the face of something so much bigger than you. There’s a power in these dark skies, a kind of beauty in the way they loom over everything, even when they’re filled with tension. I want to evoke that same sense of unease I felt as a child, but with the understanding and depth that age brings.

There’s something cathartic about it, too. For years, I’ve painted peaceful scenes—rolling hills, calm seas, gentle skies—and while those are still important to me, there’s a part of me that needs to explore the other side. The darker, more complex emotions that come with life—the fears, the uncertainties, the times when everything feels out of your hands. It’s an invitation to look inward, to reflect on the things that scare us and the things that we try to avoid.

I’ve always loved the way the Yorkshire landscape can shift so dramatically. One moment, you can be standing on the coast, with the sun glistening off the water, and the next, the sky could darken, and you’d feel like you were standing in the middle of a storm. It’s that unpredictability I’m trying to capture now. There’s a beauty in that unpredictability, a reminder that nature—like life itself—isn’t always gentle. It’s raw, and it’s real.

As I work on these darker skies, I find myself confronting parts of my past that I’d long since forgotten. The fear I once felt watching those storm clouds roll in as a child isn’t something to shy away from—it’s something to embrace. It’s an emotion that connects us all, even as adults, because we’ve all felt small in the face of something overwhelming.

So, as I continue this new chapter in my art, I’m excited to see where it leads me. Maybe it’s a kind of self-discovery, or maybe it’s just a way of bringing the past into the present. Whatever it is, it feels right. And for the first time in a long while, I’m finding myself drawn not just to the beauty of the world, but to the darker, more mysterious side of it too.

For those of you who’ve followed my work over the years, I hope you’ll join me on this journey into the unknown. It’s a little scarier, a little more intense, but in the end, that’s what makes it so deeply human. And after all, isn’t that what art is supposed to do? Stir something within us, no matter how dark or strange it may seem?

Thanks for being a part of this evolution with me. Let’s see where these stormy skies take us.

Darker Skies : Study #18

Darker Skies : Study #14