I have spent most of my adult life in a city, London, UK in fact, and travelling to and from cities in one country or another. I couldn’t understand why even though they were havens for chaos I felt at ease in them.

I have spent many years as a graphic designer too, all of these years in fact were in same cities. Unfortunately being a graphic designer, unbelievably, caused me to miss this feeling, or at least miss-understand what it was. As I believe it, graphics was all about solving other people’s briefs, or theories, over short periods of time; nature of graphics.

I have often looked out of window while I was contemplating an idea and something made me feel good, enough to return to issue with vigour. I believe this was fact that I was staring out into a city.

Why do I find tranquillity in a chaotic city? A city cannot survive unless it is operating properly, so when I am in London, or Sydney, Singapore City or Paris, and others; I understand that these cities are well established, hence they must have some order.

I was day dreaming in studio - in my late re-introduction into art, since just before Christmas 2005, after a 5 year break from Graphic Design, I have rented my own studio, and embarked on a fine-art journey, this time solving my own theories - and while taking a break from a very strenuous charcoal and pastel morning, I sat down and looked at all of bits of charcoal I had accumulating.

My nature provided first part of my artists journey, fast, furious, and flowing actions. When finished I am “stuffed”. I sat down and noticed all bits left over from burning away at charcoal sticks. (I say burning as I have, many times been burnt, forgetting in my passion, that charcoal sticks don’t remain same length!).

I picked one bit up while thinking, “wouldn’t it be nice to do some smaller artworks, be a change, be cheaper too”, and started rolling and smudging it around a pad of cartridge paper, A2 in size.

When I worked in insurance industry, I used to sit insurance examinations. I would always study hard and give it my all, however there were only three options as results. These were, distinction, pass or fail. I hate this word fail, in their eyes I failed twice, but did I though? As already stated, I could not have tried any harder, therefore how dare they call me a failure.