Richard Baggaley

Richard stands taught staring at the flat white board anchored to his easel, he reminds himself to relax, drop his shoulders and performs his trademark little jump, he’s ready! The studio is awash with clean light, overlooking a small cobbled courtyard with a Jasmin dominating the space, festooned with small white flowers.

A paint-splattered plastic chair, littered with various glass containers holding well-worn paintbrushes, stands like a trusted friend by his side. No smell of turpentine, for this battle weapon of choice will be acrylics, he’s equally happy using oils or just sitting with a biro and beer, sketching the world passing by.

The iPad, attached like a spider displays a dimly lit urban street with a sinister metal structure adorned with graffiti, he feels drawn to these landscapes, they feel real, filled with echoes of the industrial past, struggle and hope. 

Getting lost in the pleasure and anguish of creation, hopefully, this time he remembers not to sit on his palette!