Clutching my degree, I moved to London, and wondered how to carry on doing something creative, and earn a living at the same time. I decided that the film business would do both of these things. I managed to get a job at a small video production company, starting, as most people do, sweeping the floor and making the tea.These were the heady days of pop videos, and I spent many long nights filming any bands who would cooperate. I learnt to operate cameras, to light and edit, but ended up as a producer.Within a few years, I was producing tv and cinema commercials. I managed to travel the world, shooting everywhere from New Zealand, to India, to the Nevada desert, and picked up a few awards on the way. It was a great business to be in, but it was also all-consuming, and one frustration was the lack of time for any painting. I never stopped painting, but my output was very small, and good-quality, concentrated painting time was minimal. So when the chance came in 2002 to leave the film business and move to a lovely farmhouse just outside Oxford, I jumped at it. So I would date my return to painting as 2003, and I haven’t stopped since then. My wife and I now live in the farmhouse with three small children, a dodgy Aga and a couple of chickens. The key things I took from the film making were the lighting - I loved to watch the Lighting Cameramen ‘create’ a scene, ‘painting with light’ , as one of them once said – and the art directing, constructing a ‘tableau’ for the camera. Small adjustments to shadows or the placement of a prop could change the atmosphere in a scene significantly. So now, I love the play of light over objects, whether solid, reflective, or transluscent; the shapes of shadows, the way that form can be half-hidden yet implied by a highlight or a distorted reflection. Window frames cast shadows across shiny flagstone floors; doorways stand ajar, disappearing to darkness beyond. Life is happening here, suspended in the sunlight.