All these drawings were created during the final year of my Fine Art degree in 2020, when I decided it was time to get serious about charcoal — or at least as serious as you can be while covering yourself in soot like a Victorian chimney sweep. Up until then, I’d mostly been a painter, but charcoal tempted me with its promise of immediacy, drama, and the faint hope that I could make something impressive without waiting for paint to dry.
What I discovered was a medium that swings wildly between delicate, whisper-thin marks and bold, heavy smudges that can turn a face into a shadowy blob in seconds. It forced me to think differently about subjects, stripping them back to the essentials of form, light, and shadow — while also teaching me the fine art of not leaning on the paper with my elbow.
Messy, unpredictable, and impossible to keep off your clothes, charcoal turned out to be a revelation. These drawings became a turning point in my practice, opening up new ways of observing and recording the world — and giving me permanent evidence on my hands that yes, I’d been “working.”
