The muse on my shoulder is very sensitive and does not abide claptrap of any kind... Only when I am totally immersed... absorbed in work... does she allow something magical to happen and I become aware of a faint heartbeat and gentle breath emanating from my brush.

My fabulous architect godfather and mentor told me once that striving toward a goal - or perfection - gives one focus and direction, which is a helluva lot better than chasing one's tail.

I am holed up in a small village where I am doing my own work and it feels great. I have a small gallery and not many people find me, but I am happy being left alone and doing what I love.

I refer to my non-productive periods as fallow times. I think they are essential.

If one is constantly challenged, one grows. If one becomes complacent, one stultifies.

Art is a business, like any other.

My biggest fear is expending the best and most exciting energy in sketches, no matter how quickly executed. I often need to empty the rubbish bin several times before regaining the fresh quality of the initial exploratory sketches.