People often ask me how I became known for my orb paintings.
The truth is, the story didn’t begin with orbs. It began with a creative awakening that changed the course of my life.
Before art became my career, creativity had always been part of who I was, but it wasn’t yet the defining force that it would become. That changed after I became a Reiki Master.
For me, that experience marked a profound turning point. Something shifted creatively. I felt an overwhelming compulsion to paint. What had once been an occasional creative outlet became an everyday practice. I painted constantly. Every new canvas became an opportunity to explore, experiment and discover something I hadn’t seen before.
That period of relentless creativity eventually led me to begin exhibiting my work professionally.
My earliest signature body of work became what many people now know as my Nebula series.
Collectors often described these paintings as feeling as though they were floating through space or suspended beneath the surface of the ocean. They weren’t simply abstract paintings—they were immersive experiences.
Looking back, I can now see that I was already exploring the same feeling that continues to guide my work today: calm, atmosphere, depth and a sense of quiet wonder.
At the time, however, I didn’t fully understand the impact my paintings were having.
It wasn’t something I recognised for myself.
It was my collectors who taught me.
Again and again, people shared deeply personal stories about living with my work. Some spoke about feeling calmer when they spent time with a painting. Others described the artwork transforming the atmosphere within their homes. Some even used the word “healing” to describe their own experience.
Those conversations slowly changed the way I understood my art.
I realised I wasn’t simply creating paintings that people enjoyed looking at.
I was creating experiences that people wanted to live with.
Every summer after Christmas I deliberately give myself permission to experiment.
There are no expectations. No pressure. No destination. Just curiosity.
During one of those periods of exploration, I began layering organic shapes across a canvas.
At first they weren’t really orbs at all.
The shapes varied in size and form, but I became captivated by the repetition. Painting them felt calming—almost meditative. Layer after layer, the paintings became richer, deeper and more luminous. Over time those organic forms gradually evolved into the circles that have now become synonymous with my work.
The orbs weren’t created overnight.
They evolved naturally through thousands of hours of painting and an ongoing fascination with light, atmosphere and the emotional response art can create.
Interestingly, although my visual language had changed, the feeling hadn’t.
Just as my Nebula paintings invited viewers to feel immersed in space or beneath water, the orb paintings invited them into another world, one built from thousands of individually hand-painted layers of light.
One defining moment came in 2022 when I presented my solo exhibition, Manifest.
The exhibition showcased my evolving orb paintings, including a 2.5-metre-wide hero artwork that invited viewers to become completely immersed in its layers of colour, light and depth.
It sold less than an hour after being hung in the gallery.
By the end of the exhibition, almost every painting had found a new home.
While that was incredibly rewarding, what stayed with me most wasn’t the success of the exhibition.
It was what people experienced inside it.
One visitor described walking through the exhibition as “a galactic underwater experience.”
Those words have stayed with me ever since because they perfectly captured something I had been searching for throughout my artistic journey.
Another story touched me even more deeply.
After the exhibition, the gallerist who curated the show shared an experience I have never forgotten.
One collector became so overwhelmed while walking through the exhibition that he broke down in tears.
Through his work he had witnessed many people at the end of their lives. Standing amongst the paintings, he shared that the thousands of luminous orbs reminded him of souls leaving the body.
It wasn’t an interpretation I had ever consciously intended.
Instead, it reminded me that once a painting leaves the studio, it begins a life entirely of its own.
Every viewer brings their own memories, beliefs, emotions and life experiences. My role isn’t to tell people what to feel.
It’s to create a space where they can feel something.
That conversation, like so many before it, reinforced something my collectors had been teaching me for years.
People weren’t simply connecting with my paintings because of the colours, the technique or even the thousands of painstakingly painted orbs.
They were connecting with how the work made them feel.
Today, many people know me as “the Orb Artist.”
I’m incredibly grateful for that.
But when I look back, I realise becoming known for orb paintings was never the goal.
The goal was always much simpler.
To create work that slows people down.
To create moments of stillness in an increasingly busy world.
To invite people into paintings they don’t simply observe, but experience.
Every orb is painted by hand.
Every layer is built patiently over weeks in the studio.
Every painting carries thousands of small decisions that gradually become something much greater than the sum of their parts.
Looking back, I can now see that every stage of my artistic journey—from the immersive nebula paintings to the orb paintings I create today—has been leading towards the same destination.
Creating art that offers people a place to pause.
To breathe.
To reflect.
And perhaps, for just a moment, to find a little more peace.
If that’s what people remember when they stand in front of one of my paintings, then I feel I’ve achieved exactly what I set out to do, even before I realised that was the journey I was on.