A British artist living and working in Cornwall, England. Born in 1988 near Stroud in the Cotswolds, I grew up in a converted chapel built into the side of a cliff, surrounded by wildlife and creativity. The daughter of two artists, my upbringing instilled in me a deep appreciation for the natural world and its intricate beauty, which has become a recurring theme throughout my artistic practice.

My education followed an alternative path. I attended Acorn School in Nailsworth, a small independent school rooted in creativity, connection to nature, and a respect for childhood. At sixteen I began studying at Stroud College, where I completed my BTEC and Art Foundation courses, before earning a degree in Fine Art Photography from Falmouth University.

Following my studies, I moved to London and joined Bellerby & Co. Globemakers — one of the world’s few remaining makers of handcrafted globes. There, I developed a meticulous attention to detail through processes including casting the spheres, balancing them, cutting gores, hand-painting maps, and varnishing finished pieces. This experience further deepened my respect for precision and patience and has shaped my approach to painting.

Travel has also played a defining role in my life and work. Before the pandemic, I explored remote landscapes in Patagonia, Mongolia, and across Asia and Europe, using walking as a way to experience and process my surroundings at a meaningful pace. In recent years, environmental awareness and motherhood have drawn me closer to home. Walking through Cornwall, Wales, many English counties, and western Scotland has revealed to me the quiet grandeur of the British Isles — landscapes that now form the focus of my current body of work.

My recent solo exhibition, And the Landscape Watched Us Leave, took its title from a line by British author and adventurer Robert Macfarlane in The Old Ways. The phrase resonates deeply with me — it speaks to our ever-evolving relationship with the natural world. It reflects our daily encounters with the land as we move through it, and the cyclical bond between earth and humanity: we are born from it and ultimately return to it. On a broader, existential level, it also gestures toward the fragility of our species, our often malevolent presence on this earth, and the quiet endurance of the land, which will breathe freely once more when we are gone.

That exhibition marked the first part of a larger project exploring our connection with the landscape, particularly through the act of walking. Over the past two and a half years, I have immersed myself in writings on walking — as ritual, research, pilgrimage, and self-discovery — to deepen my understanding of what it means to move through nature on foot. Across cultures and histories, walking in the landscape occupies a singular space: it is both a physical act and a contemplative one, a means of knowing the world and oneself.

I am fascinated by the speed at which we live — what we create, what we destroy, and what we choose to value. Walking offers a counterpoint to this acceleration: its rhythm invites stillness, observation, and connection. 

In my painting practice, I translate this rhythm into mark-making. Working in fine detail on wooden panels, I leave areas of exposed wood as a quiet acknowledgment of the material’s origin — a reminder of our reliance on the earth that sustains both art and life. Each piece unfolds slowly, built layer by layer with small brushes until the essence of a place reveals itself.

Through my work, I aim to evoke a reconnection with the rhythms of the land and the transformative power of nature. I hope my paintings invite the viewer to slow down, to notice what is often overlooked, and to sense — even briefly — the deep intelligence of the living world. We are not here for long; let us walk gently, look closely, and listen to what the land has to teach us.