I grew up in Fossano, in Piedmont, where the land opens out between the hazelnut hills of the Langhe and the distant Alps. Winters there arrive with fog thick enough to swallow sound, and that pale, suspended light still shapes how I see the world.

Family played a quiet but lasting role in this. My grandfather on my mother’s side was a farmer who worked his fields between Trinità and Carrù, making wine and tending the land with patience and respect for the seasons. My grandmother on my father’s side lived beside an old timber yard where I spent long summers playing among stacked wood and shadows. From them I absorbed a sense of care, simplicity, and attention to what lasts.

I trained at the Liceo Artistico “Ego Bianchi” in Cuneo, studied architecture for a time, and I later worked mainly in web design, with earlier experience in graphic design, across Italy and the UK. Somewhere between deadlines and layout grids, I picked up a brush again and realised painting had never really left me.

I now live and work in Buckinghamshire, surrounded by fields, canals, and quiet edges of countryside. I paint landscapes, always drawn to moments of pause. A flooded path, a tree in shadow, a stretch of water at dusk. These are the moments that stop me, where light and memory briefly overlap.

I usually work from sketches and memory, often developed from direct observation, not to record a view but to hold onto a feeling. I’m interested in tonal structure, mass, and atmosphere, and I try to stop before explanation takes over. A painting works best for me when there is space left for the viewer to enter.

My work is shaped by a long, quiet lineage of painters who placed truth in light and atmosphere rather than detail. From the Italian Macchiaioli, particularly Fattori, and the atmospheric vision of Segantini, through American Tonalism, and on to painters of stillness and restraint such as Twachtman and Wyeth, I’ve learned that painting can be a way of staying with the world rather than describing it.