I spend a lot of time gestating a image before it takes form on a canvas. If the image in my mind or on the camera isn’t powerful in some way, I generally discard it and keep searching until something lights up the pleasure sensors in my brain. Last year, it was waterlilies -- not so much the pristine flowers, but the tough, glossy and colourful leaves, which lend themselves to the process of building a painting through glazes. Then, too, there are the transparent darknesses of the pond through which the light penetrates; it varies from deep blue to amber to black, and is often speckled with tiny white insects which scatter themselves across the surface tension. Long parallel shadows cast by the reeds drape themselves across it all, changing colours with every surface they meet. Water in general fascinates me and I’ve been painting water again today - trying to capture the slow swell of the bay’s deep darkness as the glow of sunset reflects off its surface.