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For years, I was an avid viewer of Sky Arts’ groundbreaking 'Landscape Artist of the Year' and 'Portrait Artist of the Year' shows, always wondering if I was good enough to enter—let alone compete. At the end of each episode, the ever-entertaining Stephen Mangan would invite viewers to apply for future series via social media. My wife would always encourage me:
"Why don’t you apply?"
"I don’t know if I’m good enough."
"You are! If I had your talent, I wouldn’t hesitate!" or "What have you got to lose?"
But self-doubt had been ingrained in me since childhood. As a kid, I never felt my work was good enough — not even to submit to Tony Hart’s 'Hartbeat' on CBBC. This self-criticism drove me to improve, spending hours drawing in my bedroom, comparing myself to my school friends James and George — "the best drawers in school." Yet, as I grew older, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I still wasn’t good enough.
I studied art and design full-time for six years—three at college and three at university—surrounded by inspiring tutors and visionary peers. Despite earning top marks, including a First-Class Honours degree, I always felt my classmates were more talented than me. That environment was both a gift and a challenge, but I embraced it. Art school pushed me beyond my comfort zone, and that’s where true growth happens.
After university, I spent six years in the creative industry, only to fall out of love with art and design. Working for clients drained the joy from the creative process; my skills were valued more for technically executing their ideas than allowing me to be fully creative. I didn’t want to attach my name to work I didn’t believe in. So, I pivoted, spending another six years reskilling for a career in web development.
Yet, after all that time, I found myself missing it — the act of drawing, painting, and creating just for the love of it. Art had been such a huge part of my life, and I was finally beginning to realise how much I needed it back.
In 2014, I found my way back to traditional art. I attended a couple of university-based art modules led by the inspiring Paul Gatenby of The Liverpool Independent Art School. Through him, I was introduced to the Liverpool Urban Sketchers, a community he and several artist friends had founded that same year. This informal, free group met on the first Saturday of each month in various locations across Liverpool and the wider city region to socialise and sketch.
Not long after, I also began attending weekly life drawing sessions at Warrington’s Pyramid Arts Centre, originally run by the brilliant Julie Colclough and life drawing at Shakespeare In the North Playhouse, in Prescot. These sessions became a cherished part of my routine whenever I could fit them into my busy life as a family man.
Being part of a creative community again was deeply rewarding. Surrounded by talented artists on similar journeys, I found comfort in knowing I wasn’t alone in my struggles. Seeing how others approached the same challenges gave me a newfound appreciation for different perspectives and techniques.
Returning to art with fresh eyes, now behind glasses — I realized that the self-doubt and imposter syndrome I had wrestled with as a young creative were not unique to me. They seemed to be part of the experience for anyone truly passionate about their craft. After all, growth in any field is a lifelong journey, and embracing that mindset was key to overcoming my self-imposed limitations.
Most importantly, I no longer create art for anyone but myself. If people enjoy my work, that brings me joy, but if they don’t, I’m perfectly okay with that too. Free from the pressure of making a living from my creativity, I now create purely for the love of it — because something catches my eye, sparks my curiosity, and the effort feels worth my time and energy.
On New Year’s Eve of 2023, I made a promise to my wife: I would pursue my creative passion in one of two ways. One of them was applying for Landscape Artist of the Year or Portrait Artist of the Year. I kept a close watch on the social media announcements, procrastinating until just a couple of days before the deadline—then, finally, I submitted my work.
With my New Year’s promise fulfilled, my fate was now in the hands of the gods—or, more accurately, the wonderful team at Storyvault, the production company behind the show.
A few weeks later, I found out that I hadn’t been selected as a contestant — but I had been chosen as a Wildcard! How brilliant! I would receive an email allowing me to choose from several filming locations on different dates.
As soon as that email arrived, I jumped on it. I was thrilled to see that Llanberis in North Wales was still available. Of all the locations, it was the most practical choice for me. I was familiar with the area, as I had family nearby, making the logistics of participating in the show much easier. Even better, the episode was set to film the day before my 44th birthday — a perfect way to celebrate. When my selection was confirmed, my wife and children were over the moon for me.
I immediately started gathering everything I’d need to sketch outdoors. Normally, with Urban Sketching, I travel light — just a sketchbook and whatever fits in my pocket. But this felt different. It was more serious, and I wanted to be well-prepared, especially with the possibility of being on the telly!
I invested in my first field easel from Cass Art, using a £5 discount as a Landscape Artist of the Year entrant. I also bought a new A3 drawing board, a fishing umbrella (for shade or shelter from the inevitable British weather), and a trolley to carry everything. My backpack was packed with inks, a palette, brushes, pens, pencils, quarter-pan watercolors, water, lunch, a coat—you name it. Spending an entire day outdoors filming required a lot of preparation.
The day before the event, the weather was perfect — the hottest day of the year so far, with forecasts predicting more sunshine and calm conditions. After finishing work, I set off for North Wales. The drive was smooth, and in just 1 hour 40 minutes, I arrived at my accommodation.
My mum and dad came along for the experience. They may never see my artwork hanging in a prestigious gallery or watch me graduate with a doctorate, but they would get to see me draw for a televised art competition — something just as special. And on a beautiful day in Wales, no less. Life, after all, is made up of these simple pleasures — sunny days out, shared moments, and memories that last a lifetime.
To be continued...
A Wildcard Story: Part 2