It has occurred to me that while the structure of a piece by Bach, Steve Reich, Cezanne or Agnes Martin is an essential ingredient, the point of the work is not so much in the structure itself but in what it gives rise to, or where it breaks down. Monet observed the incredible geometry and architectural detail of the façade of Rouen Cathedral, but instead of focusing on this structure, he painted the light reflected from it, which in a sense ‘melted’ it. In certain kinds of jazz and eastern music the structure serves as a springboard for improvisation, where the given motif is broken down and re-formed in various permutations before it is returned to. Structure acts as a measure for that which departs, deviates or develops from it - it is the indeterminate that is most interesting, like the moiré effect on a net curtain moving in the breeze. I used to make paintings that conformed to a preconceived plan or idea, but this didn’t allow for any development in the making of the piece. Since 1995 the structure became something more provisional - shifting, breaking down and changing as the piece developed. Also, a line could be endlessly variable. In spite of the geometric appearance, nothing is actually repeated. The moment of application, the state of the medium, and of oneself, is in constant flux - every moment is different. What arises, has as much to do with this as anything else. It is said that Mondrian had an aversion to nature because it presented us with a façade, masking underlying laws and truths. Similarly, Paul Klee was not interested in copying the appearance of a tree, but in understanding its spirit, or the idea that governs its pattern of development.

 In Painting with Sliding Form I risked the curve, as if to test or shake the rectilinear structure. The horizontals act like a stave against which the lyrical undulating line moves. Together, the straight and curved lines form edges of wave, rudder or keel like forms. I had been visiting St Ives around this time. There is also a suggestion of the female form. A whimsical flower like form emerges from the bottom section of the painting, in stark contrast to the emphatic architectural structures. The ‘opening’ and the cool blues in the upper part of the painting are reminiscent of the transition from a harbour to the open expanse of sea and sky. Forms associated with buoyancy and steering mechanisms are also a feature of Painting with Rudder Form.

 What also interested me in St Ives was the occasional empty, unoccupied shop amid the otherwise busy streets. There was something about the way this emptiness focussed my attention on the frame and glass of the window I was looking through, the peculiarities of the space inside with its recesses and protrusions, the incidental details like sockets and wiring, and the material characteristics of the painted walls, skirting and architraving. Somehow these revealed the life of the place, akin to a Rachel Whiteread sculpture. In Painting with Heart Form and Painting with Organic Form I tried working from inside out rather than from the edge, allowing the perimeter to be found rather than predetermined. As a consequence the structures appear like plans of buildings that have ‘grown’ through the addition of walls and spaces, and through ‘alterations’. Organic forms have arisen within these structures. The lobed form harks back to the hearts and clubs that appeared in very early paintings. I had observed these forms in the paintings of Alan Davie, and also in the work of David Imms, a teacher and close friend of the time. I used to go on many walks into the Northamptonshire landscape and would observe the trefoil in church windows and on gravestones. Curiously we now own a Richard Diebenkorn etching depicting a single emblematic black club - amongst other things it suggests a three leafed clover, the tree of life and inflated alveoli. These lobed forms also remind me of the ovoid shapes of dishes in the still life paintings of Bonnard, where they seem to act like magnetic centres about which the surrounding space swims. Strangely, the organic forms in the paintings shown here appear quite cool, particularly the stone-like form in Painting with Cerulean Return. This form is to some extent echoed by the unusual seven-step movement that surrounds it. The blue central band is also unusual in the way that it ‘loops’ back. This is a significant feature of later pieces like Painting with Triangular Return.