After many years of continuous painting, I decided to have a year off from exhibiting, partly to reassess my work, but mainly to refurbish my studio which was badly in need of recladding, rewiring and decluttering.
Once done, I felt it was time to get ‘out and about’ again, revisiting familiar and favourite locations on the moorlands and coastline of West Penwith, looking for any obvious changes, and with the exciting prospect of chancing upon the unexpected.
Though the bare bones and essential elements of the West Cornwall landscape tend to remain unchanged, seasonal extremes in weather – storms, heavy rainfall and summer drought – can leave a fresh visual impact. Add to this the interplay between man and nature, such as the recent introduction by the National Trust of grazing ponies for ground clearance, and there are some quite noticeable alterations to the terrain. As a result, this new collection of work presents images of familiar landscapes, but with a twist, viewed in a new light, from a new angle, or just plain different.
Neil Davies, 2025
THE TURNING
Walking from Gurnard’s Head towards Zennor Hill and Quoit. Cottages nestle amongst the bracken in splendid isolation, as much a part of the landscape as the rocks and undergrowth around them. Early autumn, and the colours are turning from their summer glad rags to soft autumn rusts, which glow softly in the late sunshine.
ALONE ON THE COMMON
Dakota Farm squats gloomily on Bosullow Common, Ding Dong in the distance, surrounded by last year’s bracken and long, bleached grass sighing in the wind. Sunlight and showers wash over it in turn, neither of them much affecting its aura of melancholy despite the beauty of this wild landscape.
A CHANGE IN THE WEATHER
An afternoon walk on Sennen Beach, after a drink and snack at The First & Last. Earlier there was thick grey cloud cover, but now the sun is winning, piercing and partially eclipsing the cloud and breaking through over the headland, its light reflecting and bouncing off the sea. Our spirits are instantly uplifted.
WOONSMITH IN WINTER
This is a cottage which I have painted many times in the distance as a part of the landscape, but today, tucked in behind a hedgerow in glorious winter technicolour, with the bleached grasses of the common waving behind, I feel it deserves to feature in a painting all of its own with more of a starring role.
HEADING OUT TO SEA
Porth Kidney on a bright spring day, Gwithian lighthouse in the distance. Very still with not a breath of wind. The water in the estuary sparkles with tiny diamonds of light; the tide is out, leaving a wide expanse of sand and a strong feeling of open space. Turning, I spot a small boat venturing out to sea, a diminutive vessel in a vast ocean.
GOODBYE SUMMER
En route to Gurnard’s Head, standing on the coast path looking west, watching as the coastline receives the full force of nature. The sky is slate grey and dark indigo flecked with violet, the wind is gusting and squally showers come and go. Nature is throwing a tantrum to welcome the winter. Drama queen.
LOE POOL IN WINTER
A long walk round the Loe Pool with the dog, and friends Liam and Sevi, on a bright winter’s day. This part of the track is muddy and hard-going, and we stop for a breather. Across the water a line of trees marches up the hill, and I spot the National Trust cottages where we stayed nearly 30 years ago, cementing our love for Cornwall and eventually bringing us here to live. Happy days!
SPARKLING ROCKS AND WHITE HORSES
Gwenver Beach, on a walk from Sennen. The recent storm has blown out to sea; the sky is clearing, constantly changing colour as it strives to rearrange its gloomy face into a smile bright with sunshine. The sea reflects the sky, deep indigo and grey turning to turquoise and aqua near the shore, flashes of colour and light bouncing from sea to sky and back again. Rain sparkles on the rocks, white horses frolic out at sea, scent of ozone in the air.
FIRST STORM OF AUTUMN
Early October, and as the forecast has predicted, the first autumn storm rolls in. I head to the beach, excited by the sounds of crashing waves and howling wind. The sky, churning in sympathy with the sea, is a whirl of clouds in all the colours of a livid bruise - yellow, ochre, orange, purple and indigo. Land’s End crouches in the distance, well used to all the drama. It’s seen it all before...
SAFE HARBOUR, NEWLYN
Having a day out in Newlyn, we head down to the old harbour to sit and watch the world go by. I wander across the detritus of low tide, slippery underfoot with mud and slimy green seaweed. An old boat is hauled up, basking in the sunlight of early spring, signs of its earlier splendour still visible. Further along is a small tender, left askew on the shoreline, and I am struck by a sense of timelessness, or of time having stood still.
THE GOING DOWN OF THE SUN
Looking out across the bay, mid-evening in late April, there is once again a light show in the sky as the sun nears its setting point. Silhouetted against the dark clouds hovering behind and threatening to eclipse its glory, it shrugs them off and continues with its display. Breathtaking every time – pure theatre.
THE CALM AFTER THE STORM
Standing on the shore after a short storm, watching the clouds clear away as the light pours through the gaps. The light is clear and bright, diffusing quickly to lift the day and the spirits. There is a feeling of freshness and calm, and I linger for a while, not wanting to turn away.
MARINE MAELSTROM
Out and about in one of the fiercest storms of winter, a convergence of wind, sea and sky at their most elemental. On the shoreline immersed in the storm, struggling to stay upright, I can hardly see for the lashing rain and wind, the sound of crashing waves adding to the tumult: a complete assault on the senses. I head back to the car wet, windswept but exhilarated.
RAIN BLOWING IN, ROSEWALL
Standing by the old boundary wall on Rosewall Hill, looking inland. The yellow, orange and ochre of the common, partially cleared this year and closely cropped by a small herd of wild ponies, give way to a patchwork of green fields, the purple heather of Trendine Hill in the background, a blue-black sky above. Suddenly the layers of colour darken as rain blows in from the sea like the bad fairy at the party.
PERPETUAL MOTION
A blustery day at Portheras - the tide is high, sea choppy, waves frothing and dancing. In the sky, light and dark compete in ever-shifting patterns, clouds tumbling in a jumble of blue, white, grey, purple and black. Nature is unable to keep still today. As I watch, Boat Cove glows yellow in a sudden shaft of sunlight.
UP BUTTERMILK HILL AND DOWN AGAIN
A family walk up, over, down and around Buttermilk Hill, otherwise known as Trevalgan Hill or Little Trevalgan, in early spring. Just over the top, looking back, I wonder how long this granite outcrop has been here – centuries, certainly. Whose footsteps have I just trodden in, and what were the stories of their owners? This could be true for almost anywhere in the world, but somehow here, in West Penwith, in places where the landscape hardly changes, our ancestors and our history feel so much closer.
SKYLARKS AND ROCK STACKS, ROSEWALL
Looking inland along the ridge at the top of the hill, a fresh breeze blowing. Stacks of granite boulders balance precariously, standing firm for centuries against the elements; skylarks rise and fall with a tuneful warble. Autumn colours proliferate, but what caught my eye today is the solitary little tree sprouting from a hillock, silhouetted against the sky, the tallest living thing for miles around.
RAINING LIGHT
Early morning, St. Ives Bay. It has rained a lot during the night, and all appears drained of colour, watery and diluted. Standing with my coffee looking out to sea, the mood changes as the clouds are suddenly blown apart and shafts of sunlight cascade down onto the sea, bringing the world to life again.
TOP OF THE HILL
I walk this route regularly, up the Towednack Road, then either round the reservoir or the lower slopes of Rosewall Hill. We’re walking in bright sunlight on a winter’s day. I marvel at the steep hedgerows and Cornish hedges, full of colour even in midwinter when the sun catches them.
CHILLY BEACH WALK ON A WINTER’S DAY
Sennen Beach, winter sky a patchwork of inky blue, grey and white with flashes of yellow and purple. Shafts of sunlight highlight the contrast between light and dark and there is a sense of excitement and drama in the fast-moving pace as it constantly changes, like an aerial kaleidoscope. As if in competition, messy waves frolic up the beach in a rowdy game of tag.
AUTUMN TREK AROUND WOONSMITH
A walk with the dog from Baker’s Pit and on to Woonsmith. The ever-changing landscape never fails to be visually invigorating. Today, after what feels like weeks of rain, it is boggy and squelchy underfoot, necessitating good climbing and balancing skills to negotiate the obstacle course. Obi has a great time and is far quicker than me, though all four of his white paws have turned peat-bog-black.
THE DYING OF THE LIGHT
Porthmeor Cove, on the north coast near Zennor. The sun is setting spectacularly, after a mixed bag of weather. The sky is saturated with deep oranges in many different hues, with a last bright glimmering strip of light on the horizon and over the headland. A symphony of colour. Heading to The Tinner’s for a pint to celebrate this amazing place I call home.
AS OLD AS THE HILLS
Walking along the north coast near Zennor in winter, my eye is caught by the riot of shapes, textures and colours of the landscape here, a tangle of untamed bracken, gorse, bleached grasses, granite and bramble. In the distance, Carn Galver presides moodily over this ancient, primordial land.
HEADING FOR COVER
On the beach, soggy underfoot, the sky darkens and the wind has picked up, heralding an unexpected downpour. I am completely unprepared and wearing the wrong clothes, having forgotten the unpredictability of the Cornish weather. The storm arrives, obliterating the landscape suddenly and completely, except for a long streak of yellow on the horizon. Time to head for cover - nature has definitely got one over on me today.
OUT IN THE STORM
Walking west up the coast path from Hellesveor, in the first big storm of winter. Rough seas batter the coastline, waves crashing in timeless cycles up the cliffs and into every inlet, cave and crevice, creamy white foam exploding onto dark granite. I am always a little wary when the path gets too close to the edge in this weather, never underestimating the power of the storm.
AFTERGLOW
Solitary cottage on Conquer Downs up from Woonsmith, towards the end of the day. It has been wet today but now it’s cleared away, the warm sunshine after the rain leaving a gentle glow across this often bleak landscape.
MOORLAND SUNSET, CONQUER DOWNS
Moving on from where I observed this cottage in what became this painting’s twin, ‘Afterglow’, I head down the hill and look back at the same cottage from the other side. The light has changed completely now, still glowing and just as eye-catching, but less intense and more ethereal, and I want to paint it all over again.
PAINTINGS OIL ON BOARD (DIMENSIONS IN INCHES)
