No chance of that at Comoba, a fantastic cafe directly opposite our apartment in Lisbon. Americano and a few minutes sketching. Is there a better way to start the day?
Sketching over the past 24 hours has been a wonderful experience as Lisbon reveals its historical charm.
Firstly the Mosteiros dos Jeronomos In the waterfront Belem district. Built in 1501, it is one of Lisbon’s most famous landmarks, and where explorer Vasco da Gama (I remember him from primary school) prayed before his voyage to India.
Painted in gouache with no pre-pencil work. The trick here is to capture the complex beauty of the building without being a slave to too much detail.
The second sketch is the first in a brand new scribble pad. Drawn during a delicious tapas lunch in the old historic Alfama part of the city.
Perfect weather for being out and about and observing as life goes by.
This one is in Staedtler pigment liner with solid areas in Tombow pen. I highly recommend the combination.
First day in Lisbon and what a beautiful city. Found a cafe, and with an Americano and my first Portuguese tart it’s time to break into a new sketchbook and draw the archway to Santa Cruz da Castello, high up in the old town and overlooking the River Tagus.
On Wednesday I leave for Lisbon, and from there I’ll travel on to Morocco, and together with partner @debbiemackinnon and with the expert guidance of @amazigh_art_tours we will be leading twelve artists through the souks of Marrakesh,to the Atlas Mountains and the desert beyond.
The emphasis will be on sketchbooks, immersing ourselves in new landscapes and in the rhythm, sounds, and movement of everyday life in unfamiliar places.
For me, a sketchbook is far more than a place for drawings. It’s a companion for observing and recording the world as it unfolds. These spreads come from an earlier sketchbook; huts resting quietly along a beach, weather rolling across distant mountains, coal ships unloading at docks, the character of trees shaped by wind, or those fleeting moments when nature is simply at its best.
Sketchbooks slow us down. They invite us to really look, to listen, and to capture the essence of a place, not just how it appears, but how it feels. As both an artist and a tutor, I love encouraging this way of working: responding to what’s around us, translating sights and sounds into marks on a page.
I’m looking forward to working with our artist group, filling new pages with impressions from this journey, new colours, textures, light, and stories waiting to be discovered.
And I look ok forward to sharing those experiences with you all.
My love of trees extends even to these gnarled, twisted sentinels. Dead but unfallen, I admire the way they rise above the wetlands, their jagged forms mirrored in the water, flashes of sky shimmering between the reeds.
The last page of a sketchbook always brings a swirl of emotions. Each page holds memories, places wandered, fleeting moments captured, and the quiet inspiration sparked by fellow artists along the way. Together they become a rich, well-travelled journal.
But the ending of one book means the beginning of another. A fresh sketchbook sits waiting, its pages still crisp and full of possibility. This one will travel with me to Lisbon, Marrakesh, and into the mountains of Morocco.
Most of the works here are painted in gouache, my trusty companion for plein air painting, quick to respond, vibrant, and perfectly suited to capturing the spirit of a place in the moment.
I’m heading to Europe in about ten days time and part of that trip will see me back here in the olive groves of our dear friends in Italy.
A kilometer outside of Montecchio in Umbria, it is a magical landscape and the challenge of painting the silvery light of olive trees will once again force me to get out the paints. This is from my last visit and aims to pick up the soft evening light.
The world may have changed and so may have I, but there’s a beautiful familiarity that greets me whenever I land here. Laughter, love and the past memories of previous visits.
I like the ability to abstract elements that relate and seemingly communicate with each other in an intimate way. And the idea that colour is an essential part of the work and how the ratio of its mass is relative to other colours in the arrangement.
I am planning to feature these in my next show at Working Dog gallery @workingdogprojects.art in August.
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1 Shifting Lines Acrylic on canvas 123 x 123cms
2 Rhythmic Patterns Acrylic on canvas 1115 x 115 cms
Driving across Tasmania, towards the Tarkine, on our recent @art.travel.adventures art workshop, this small group of trees really caught my eye, just outside of Irishtown near the north west coast. Simple angular shapes, dense foliage and the milky late afternoon light!
On a different note, I will be sending out a newsletter in the coming days with an update on the year so far, my upcoming 11 week trip to Europe and the dates for my next show in August. If you haven’t already signed up, why not click the link in my bio, visit my website and a box will pop up for you to join.
Glimpses of the Bass Strait, through the twisting trunks and branches.
From the woodland area on the Nut. Pademelon lurking in the bushes and an inquisitive Blue Tongue lizard crawling around our feet. And perfect weather too for our enthusiastic group of artists.
Art workshop fun above Stanley, Tasmania with @art.travel.adventures
Back up high on the Nut today in near perfect conditions. A quick scribble pad sketch (swipe to see) and then a work in gouache.
Interesting to interpret the detail from high up and I’m reminded of many of Richard Diebenkorn’s impressions from the air, as seen in some of his early works @diebenkornfoundation
I am inclined to make larger more abstract works of this particular piece, to make more of the geometric framework of the landscape.
A wonderful day with our @art.travel.adventures workshop group. This was high up on The Nut, a striking volcanic plug that rises dramatically above the seaside town of Stanley on Tasmania’s north-west coast. Sheer-sided and flat-topped, it stands about 143 metres (469 feet) above sea level and dominates the surrounding landscape.
This demonstrates the build of layers using gouache, from initial orange base to the final work and the scribble pad sketch which was my warm up drawing to start the process.
The sketch allows me to resolve the composition, establish how I will tackle darks and lights, the twisting trunks and branches and the playful nature of the shadows.
I let the lines pull toward a quiet point on the horizon. The shapes are built from simple blocks, reference to previous agricultural activity, and long diagonals that narrow as they move back. Curved bands soften the structure. The pale cream sky opens space all the way to the river, while the layered fields stretch distance forward and away.
Even on the plains, there is almost always a distant rise, a low headland, barely lifting itself from the horizon. I like how it appears to hover, breathing against the sky.
A flat landscape can feel lonely but it can also feel expansive, meditative an invitation rather than an absence.
After rain, the rutted farm tracks gather water like quiet mirrors, ribbons of light. Their edges soften and their reflections hold more sky than earth.
Telegraph poles do more than decorate the roadside. They teach the eye how to travel, providing a perfect perspective.
Memories of my time on the Monaro Plains, south of Sydney.
Three of my earlier tree works each painted loosely against a softening sky.
There’s something very appealing to me about the solitary tree and what it represents, resilience, self-reliance and the ability to endure hardship. And of course individuality.
Note how loose the shape is in the first painting, Melting The Darkness and the importance of the light passing through the canopy.
Once I have the shapes and composition resolved, I start to include some detail. Here I have gone as far as to start putting in the leaves. When it comes to charcoal I like to see a variance of line and tone, so the dark flecks of leaves really come into effect.
Also rubbing out, smudging and drawing over the top of earlier marks creates an interesting depth to the work.
I wait until the end to decide where to let the light shine and use an eraser to rub out areas of tone. Cut in to several slivers, the eraser is perfect for removing that pinpoint of light coming between branches.
So many of you get in touch with questions about drawing and painting trees, so I thought I’d devote this week to exploring some of the challenges they present. Trunks and canopies are endlessly fascinating subjects to study, and once shifting light and shadow enter the equation, the possibilities really open up.
I always begin with a charcoal sketch — thinking about composition, light and dark, and just how complex the subject needs to be. I never try to paint every leaf. Instead, I look for the underlying shapes and how they connect, overlap, and merge with one another.
Where is the light actually coming from, and does it support what I want to say? In this example, you can see how I changed the direction of the shadows partway through the process — moving them from a forward-facing light to one coming from the lower right.
Allow yourself that freedom to adjust as the painting develops.
I let the background colour show through, using it to suggest movement and energy in the final piece.
Look closely at the colours in front of you. Notice the pinks, yellows, and pale blues in the trunks — and don’t be afraid to exaggerate them. Colour is often more interesting than we first assume.
Keep checking in with yourself as you work. If something isn’t sitting right, paint it out and begin again. Nothing is precious at this stage.
Finally, photograph the work and view it small. It’s often the quickest way to see what’s working — and what isn’t.
Swipe back through to see the various stages. And reach out if you have any further questions.
Still immersed in the landscapes rhythms of geometry. This one is finished and framed.
My geometric paintings sit at the meeting point of intuition and structure. Shapes are used as anchors rather than rules, allowing colour, rhythm and spatial tension to emerge through response rather than planning.
The work grows out of a conversation with landscape and memory, where geometry becomes a way of editing experience; simplifying, compressing and distilling what is felt rather than what is seen. Balance and imbalance coexist, inviting the viewer to slow down and sense the quiet energy held within the forms.
What seemed an unlikely subject turned out to be an interesting landscape. In each case, the perspective proved invaluable and I deliberately kept detail to a minimum; a sparse feeling at the end of the day when the harbour’s activity had come to a lull.
The first two are in gouache and the third is in pastels.
I’m heading back there with partner @debbiemackinnon later this month for an @art.travel.adventures workshop with 12 artists.
We are also heading to the Tarkine which will be in stark contrast to these industrial sheds. Look forward to sharing with you.
A landscape rich in folding fields of olive groves and vineyards and hilltop towns. It is a perfect place to draw, study and make marks that connect you to this beautiful sense of place.
Along with partner @debbiemackinnon I will be once again painting here @hotelleone from 24 April to 1 May 2026.
AND DUE TO A LATE CANCELLATION, ONE SPACE HAS NOW COME AVAILABLE!
Why not join us at this fabulous hotel in this magical part of Italy. It is likely to get snapped up fairly quick, so act quickly.
Click on link in bio for all the info and contact Madeline direct to book.…
Along Hawkhead Track, Bouddi National Park. 5.30pm, January 2026.
The trees feel like a family — idiosyncratic, each with its own personality. One stands ramrod straight, proud and unassailable; its sibling sways and swerves, reckless from an early age, determined to be different.
There’s a point on this walk where the ocean reveals itself. The Pacific sits quietly behind the trees as the sun breaks through. The foreground falls into shadow and the trunks of the eucalypts catch the light, momentarily luminous. A conversation between vertical insistence and lateral calm.
Swipe to see some stages along the way and three final details.
