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I paint swimmers. Swimmers in the clear teardrop blue of a manicured pool. Swimmers in the gloop of the Hampstead ponds. Swimmers in a spray of seawater. Swimmers I see. Swimmers I remember. Swimmers I imagine. Why? Because I find that each moment of the swim comes with a special sort of euphoria. The anticipation of release from gravity. The slip back into a primitive home. The sun trapping in the salt after. A release and rebirth.


Oil on Metal

10cm by 10cm 

Framed and ready to hang




Twilight at The Men's Pond

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