6. Winter fleeting light in Scotland’s short days
Although the winter days are short in Scotland; when there is light it is beautiful and not to be missed. I love to capture the fleeting moments of light whether it is a flash of yellow through a wintry sky or the beautiful sunrises and sun sets full of pink and yellow that can be so easily seen at reasonable hours of the day,
As winter settles in, I find myself looking forward to seeing Scottish scenery again — not despite the season, but because of it. Winter light in Scotland has a character all its own, and it’s something I’m always drawn back to.
The days may be short, but the light can be extraordinary. Bright shafts of sunlight breaking through pale, rain-heavy skies. Low sun catching hills, water, and stone with sudden clarity. And, of course, the dramatic winter sunrises and sunsets that often bring soft pinks, warm yellows, and fleeting oranges to the sky.
These moments don’t last long. Winter light shifts quickly, asking you to slow down and really look. Clouds move fast, colours change by the minute, and familiar landscapes are transformed by contrast — brightness against shadow, warmth against cold.
It’s this atmosphere that continues to shape my painting. Scottish winter landscapes are often thought of as muted, but I find them full of colour and emotion, especially when the sun sits low and the sky is unsettled. Those brief flashes of light stay with me, finding their way into my work long after the moment has passed.
As I look ahead to spending time among Scotland’s landscapes again soon, it’s the winter light I’m most excited to see — dramatic, unpredictable, and quietly beautiful.
5. Winter studies in run up to Christmas
Alongside winter landscapes, I’ve also been painting some whimsical animal studies. Small characters that belong to winter just as much as the land itself — creatures that add a touch of warmth, humour, and life to cold days. They’ve been playful to paint and surprisingly comforting, a reminder that winter doesn’t have to be austere to be honest.
Watercolour sheep in winter snow scene
In the run-up to Christmas, I’ve found myself drawn to working small.
Over the past few weeks I’ve been painting a series of winter studies — little pieces created simply for the joy of it — many of them turned into personal cards for friends and family. They were made as a way of marking the season: quieter days, shorter light, and that familiar sense of the year drawing in on itself.
Alongside winter landscapes, I’ve also been painting some whimsical animal studies. Small characters that belong to winter just as much as the land itself — creatures that add a touch of warmth, humour, and life to cold days. They’ve been playful to paint and surprisingly comforting, a reminder that winter doesn’t have to be austere to be honest.
Normally at this time of year, much of my inspiration comes while I’m out on my bike. I often capture reference photos on the move — a sudden winter sky, frost on fields, low sun breaking through cloud. Those fleeting moments usually feed directly into the studio work that follows.
This winter has been different.
Due to some health issues, I haven’t been able to get out cycling as I normally would. That has meant fewer of those chance encounters with the landscape, fewer quick photographs taken in passing. At first, that felt like a loss. Being out in the world is such a big part of how I gather ideas.
But it has also slowed my way of working — and, unexpectedly, deepened it.
These winter studies have come from memory, imagination, and a long familiarity
