After walks, drives and journeys, Annie’s work begins to evolve from a feeling for a place, it might be the light, it might be the shapes, the colours, the sense for what may have gone on there before. She is particularly drawn to understanding and investigating the history of a place. Then there’s time spent in the place and sketching - often quite figuratively, sometimes with eyes closed using the memory of the place to guide the pen.

 

Annie’s parents, Wendy and Les, were keen climbers. Happy and wild childhood holidays were spent camping in Crafnant, Wales and Loch Torriden, Scotland. Educated in the 70s, Annie struggled with reading and writing and was not considered as 'academic'. She later learned as an adult that this was down to her undiagnosed dyslexia which she now regards as a strength. This alternative way of learning has allowed Annie to harness her vivid imagination and creative perception. This combined with her deep love of nature from exploring valleys and mountains, manifests in her work.

Her mum Wendy was always fascinated by the stories landscapes can tell. It was clearly a family trait: Wendy’s uncle, Leslie Peter Wenham https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leslie_Peter_Wenham
was a noted archaeologist responsible for many of the major excavations of York in the 50s, 60s and 70s.

 

The love of stories and the landscape still runs strong in Wendy - who would march Annie and her brother Keith around the English landscape searching for every possible trace of ancient monument that the map showed.

 

Archaeology remains a strong feature of Annie’s work seen in the layers and marks, the traces of what was once visible but which now lies beneath the surface.

These sketches might do nothing for months or they might go straight into the studio, sometimes onto paper, sometimes onto canvas. There’s no set plan.​

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Whether on paper or canvas, what usually happens next is a process of mark-making. Probably barefoot, often with eyes closed, bringing back the feeling of the place, more of an emotional response than an attempt to draw, though sometimes there’s that too. Sometimes other places find their way in there, shapes and features that become clear but were never consciously placed. These might be lines or shapes scratched into the canvas, drawn or painted with sticks. Parts of other paintings might be torn out of others and moulded in. Sometimes they disappear forever.

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Then colour, sometimes thick and textural, other times just a translucent surface, sometimes scraped off entirely.

 

This process can take weeks and months.

 

Paint applied and removed, marks made and hidden then scraped back and revealed. And then one day the painting says done.​​

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