Why I Paint Real Places, Not Generic Scenes

Tintagel, castle headland [oil on canvas, 40x40 cm]

I’ve always been drawn to painting things that feel rooted in the real world. For me, that means places with character, memory, and a sense of presence — not anonymous scenes that could belong anywhere.

When I choose a subject, I want it to feel specific. I’m not interested in painting a coastline that is simply “some rocks and some water.” I want the viewer to sense where they are. That might be the colour of the cliffs, the shape of the harbour, the pattern of boats in the water, or the particular light that belongs to that stretch of shore. The point is not to copy a location exactly, but to capture its essence.

That’s one of the reasons I’m drawn to seascapes and landscapes. In a way, I think they’re closely connected. Whether it’s grass or sea, both are part of the same natural world, and both carry a sense of place. In the UK especially, the sea has a powerful pull. It’s part of our history, our memory, and our imagination. Almost everyone has some kind of relationship with it, even if it’s only through holiday memories, long walks, or the feeling of standing on a windy shoreline.

What matters to me is that the painting should feel alive rather than generic. A picture needs a reason to exist beyond being a record of a view. It should have something in it that gives it identity. That might be the rugged presence of a cliff path, the activity of a harbour full of boats, or the dramatic shape of a place like Tintagel. I’m always looking for something that makes the scene unmistakable.

I don’t like the idea of painting something that feels interchangeable. If a viewer could look at the painting and say it might be anywhere, then I feel I’ve lost part of what makes the subject interesting. A real place has edges, quirks, and relationships that matter. It has atmosphere. It has history. It has a connection to the people who move through it and the land or sea around it.

That’s why I paint from actual locations rather than inventing something non-specific. The reality of a place gives the work a stronger foundation. It also challenges me to respond to what is really there, rather than falling back on a formula. In the end, I want the painting to carry the feeling of standing there — not just looking at a scene, but being in it.