Interview with West Norfolk Design Magazine

The West Norfolk Aesthetic: A Dialogue with Lottie

In West Norfolk, the landscape has a way of stripping everything back to its essentials. The clarity of the chalk streams and the rugged texture of the carrstone cliffs, create a space for quiet, expansive contemplation. This environment, the intersection of big skies and shifting sands, is where we find the resonant energy of your work.

Though your time is split between the vertical pressure of London and the horizontal freedom of the coast, your paintings suggest a sophisticated synthesis of both. We have identified seven core elements of your practice, each echoing the legacy of an iconic master. We call this The Magnificent 7.

01. The Anchor | The O’Keeffe Inquiry

Georgia O'Keeffe famously said, "Most people in the city rush around so, they have no time to look at a flower." Your work moves between the vertical pressure of London and the horizontal vastness of Norfolk. Does the Norfolk landscape grant you the headspace required to really ‘see’ or are you still painting the coast with the restless, high-frequency heartbeat of the city?Norfolk has always been a reset for me. When life in London starts to feel overwhelming, I know I can go to Old Hunstanton, breathe in the sea air and slow everything down. The landscape has a calming, grounding quality. The open land and steady rhythm of the sea naturally shifts the way I look at things.

When painting landscapes, I often still paint with the energetic pace that comes with living in the city. It’s hard to immediately shake that off. My London cityscapes tend to reflect that energy, with night scenes full of chaos, where small flashes of neon from street lamps, cars and buses punctuate the scenes. You can see an example of this in my painting ‘London Night Scene’, it displays a busy moment full of sharp contrast, with red and yellow appearing from the darkness. I included areas of gold leaf to add more highlight to the lights reflected on the wet pavement.

The Norfolk landscapes feel very different. The colours are more muted and harmonious, and the compositions slow down. Instead of the vertical lines and harsh lighting of the city, you have these long horizontal views and expansive skies. I do tend to work on portrait canvas for both subjects as I feel you can include more of the foreground, middleground and background, allowing the viewer to relate further.

My studio in New Cross is in a very busy part of South London, so it almost acts as a haven. I can become completely absorbed in painting and forget that outside there are beeping horns and piercing sirens. Spending so much time in Norfolk has definitely taught me to look more closely at the quieter details of a landscape, in the way O’Keeffe described.

Even in London now I find myself searching for those quieter moments. I live in Greenwich, which feels almost like a small pocket of countryside beside the river, and I often seek out the green spaces wherever I go. I think my work now sits somewhere between those two worlds.

02. The Neon Skeleton | The Warhol Influence

In works like Shot Sage Blue Marilyn, Andy Warhol used vibrant, "artificial" tones to reveal a deeper, more electric truth than a natural palette could. Your work features a similar fluorescent pink under-layer. Is this a technical method to create light, or an intentional rebellion against the "polite," muted tones of the British countryside?The fluorescent pink base began as a technical choice, but has definitely become something more intentional over time. It has become my sort of imbedding signature. It modernises what could otherwise be seen as a traditional style of painting, particularly with my landscapes. I like the idea of pairing something familiar, like the British countryside, with something unexpected and almost artificial underneath.

As the layers build, small flecks of pink break through the surface, and that movement encourages the viewer’s eye to travel across the painting. It adds a kind of energy that you wouldn't get from a completely natural palette. In that sense, it does feel like a quiet rebellion against the more “polite,” muted tones often associated with landscape painting.

The contrast is something I really enjoy. In my Norfolk scenes, where the colours are often softer, the pink brings warmth and a subtle glow, especially when the work catches the sunlight. In my London paintings, where I’m working with darker tones, concrete greys and flashes of light from a billboard for example, it enhances that sense of electricity and movement. It also carries through into my still life food paintings, where the pink amplifies the artificiality of things like crisp packets or McDonald’s packaging. 

It is something that evolved quite naturally. At school I worked on a fluorescent orange base, then when taking commissions it shifted to a more neutral burnt sienna as it was more inoffensive. Over time that developed into the pink, partly as pink has always been my favorite colour, but it also felt like the most honest expression of the energy I wanted in the work. 

A piece that really represents that shift is ‘Beach Holiday’, which I exhibited and sold at the Mall Galleries as part of the Discerning Eye. It was one of my first looser figure paintings, much more of the under-layer was exposed. That was a turning point for me, it pushed the work further towards something more expressive and contemporary.

I had a similar experience with ‘Beach Days’, a larger figurative piece shown at my Norfolk exhibition. I was worried it might feel too modern for a local audience, but it was received really well. That reassured me people connect with the pink, it's become a defining part of my work. 

03. Texture and Form | The Thiebaud Connection

Your paintings share a sculptural quality with Wayne Thiebaud’s work, using thick, "delicious" impasto. Out here, we are surrounded by the rugged, porous texture of Carrstone; does your heavy use of paint serve as a tribute to our local geology, or are you more engaged in the tactile joy of the painting process itself?I’ve always loved Wayne Thiebaud’s work, particularly the way he uses paint so physically, and that definitely influenced my food still lifes. In my own work, though, the impasto isn’t so much a tribute to local geology as it is a way of expressing energy and movement. 

When I’m painting the Norfolk coast, I use thick, quick brushstrokes to capture the fore of the wind. I want to imply that the sand is lifting from the beach, clouds moving rapidly across the sky, and grasses bending in different directions along the dunes. The build-up of paint allows me to translate that motion into something tangible. It’s less about replicating texture, and more about embodying the feeling of being in it. 

04. Physical Rhythm | The Krasner Method

Like Lee Krasner, your work is driven by the physical movement of the brush. How do you balance the instinctive "flow" of your creative energy against the technical friction of working with fast-drying acrylics

I prefer working with acrylics as they allow me to build the paintings up in layers while still working quickly. I enjoy working quickly and completing paints in only a few days max as I worry I may lose the ‘artistic flow’ and want to move onto something else! I usually begin by covering the entire canvas with gestural movements, then repeat that process, gradually refining it until the composition feels complete.

There’s a balance between instinct and control. The fast-drying nature of acrylics supports that rhythm, but it also forces you to be decisive. If I'm working on something on a larger scale and more complex, like the sky in ‘Burnham Overy Staithe', I’ll adapt my approach, sometimes focusing on one section at a time to give it the attention it needs before moving on. Something on that scale needs to be tackled in sections, this allows me to mix paints on the canvas as well as layer on top.

05. The Compositional Score | The Kandinsky Frequency

Wassily Kandinsky famously viewed colours as chords and the canvas as a musical arrangement. How does the tempo of your studio environment dictate your brushwork: which high-tempo music tune/song allows you to surrender to a more instinctive, energetic mark-making, and which slower composition brings the focus required for your final, precise refinements?I actually don’t listen to music when I paint. I find it much more grounding to have something conversational in the background. I often listen to podcasts, especially ‘The Basement Yard’ which is just two lifelong friends having funny, easy conversations that I can relate to as they’re a similar age to me with similar backgrounds. It makes the studio feel more relaxed, like I’m part of it.

I also tend to have comfort shows on, like ‘New Girl’ or ‘The Simpsons’ which are shows I’ve watched so many times I don't need to fully pay attention. It creates a calm, familiar atmosphere, which is important for me. If I’m feeling stressed or overstimulated, I find it much harder to paint.

I know all artists work differently and some may find listening to heavy metal helps their creative journey! For me, that sense of ease actually allows me to work more instinctively. When the environment feels relaxed and familiar, I can settle into the process and let the brushwork flow more naturally.06. The Foundation (The Barbara Hepworth Shift) Barbara Hepworth’s genius lay in her ability to shift between the structural logic of the city and the organic freedom of the coast. Beyond the art world, who are the two most influential people in your life, one that keeps you grounded & one that sets you free? How do these invaluable people help sustain your equilibrium in the transition between different working/living environments.I feel very lucky that I have a strong support system around me, both my family and friends. My parents have also been incredibly influential in that they encouraged me to pursue art from a young age and supported me until I was able to stand on my own two feet. I sold my first commission as a teenager to a family friend, and I continued taking on work throughout university to support myself, so that early encouragement made a huge difference.

My best friend Alice, who I met at university, is someone who keeps me both grounded and allows me to feel completely free. We’ve lived together for most of the past ten years, and our daily “kitchen meetings” (usually with a glass of wine… or three) have become a kind of therapy. Having that constant, honest support has been invaluable, especially during more stressful periods. We have a way of bouncing off each other in a way that is incomparable to anyone else I know, our partners call us ‘platonic soul mates’!

My boyfriend Jamie is also an artist, which brings another level of understanding to what I do. He’s been incredibly supportive, whether that’s helping me work through creative blocks or quite literally assisting at exhibitions, wrapping paintings while I speak to clients. That shared perspective really helps when I’m navigating the ups and downs of creative work.

Another person who was incredibly influential to me was my university tutor, Judy. We had a great relationship and she played a huge role in shaping my development as an artist. We had a strong dynamic, I was quite stubborn and would challenge her, and she pushed me just as much in return. We got on like a house on fire and she really understood how I worked, which made a lasting impact on my confidence and direction. Sadly, she has since passed away, which was very difficult to hear. My parents were able to meet her at my graduation and thank her for everything she'd done for me, it was an emotional moment, and one I’ll always value.

More broadly, all of my friends have been so encouraging, even down to supporting the less glamorous side of things, like sharing my work online when I’m posting cringey reels or TikToks. Having people around me who believe in what I’m doing allows me to move more confidently between different environments, whether that’s the intensity of London or the calm of Norfolk.

07. Cinematic Language | The Hopper Narrative

Much like an Edward Hopper canvas, there is a distinct cinematic DNA in your art, characterized by harsh lighting and solitary subjects. To trace the origin of this style: what films defined your youth versus your adulthood? Are you intentionally applying filmic 'framing' techniques to your pieces to capture that sense of stilled time, using the environment to "trap" the viewer’s gaze, or is the similarity to cinema an accidental byproduct of your unique artistic voice?Interestingly, I’ve always been drawn to darker, more cinematic influences. I love horror and dystopian films, which doesn't immediately reflect in my current work. At university, my paintings were much more aligned with that. I focused on architectural cityscapes, often abandoned or overgrown, inspired by films and video games like The Last of Us and Bladerunner. I was really interested in the idea of time acting on buildings, how structures decay, and how nature reclaims space over time. I even broke into an abandoned asylum near Leeds and photographed it for a project! Funnily enough, those paintings are currently collecting dust in my parents garage. 

That period was also when I became more experimental with colour. My degree project explored the growth of cities through abstract, geometric compositions using fluorescent spray paint, which is where my interest in working with vibrant underlayers really began. That project ended up winning an award for colour, and it marked a turning point in how I approached painting.

Since spending lockdown in Norfolk, my work has shifted. I moved away from those darker abandoned scenes and became more focused on landscape and atmosphere, something calmer and more reflective. I still enjoy painting cityscapes, London is still my home, but now I'm more interested in the people moving through them. Introducing figures brings a narrative element that invites the viewer to ask questions and engage more deeply with the scene.

I do think about composition quite carefully, and in that sense there is definitely a cinematic influence. Framing, lighting and positioning all play a role in guiding the viewer’s eye and holding their attention, much like a still from a film. I’ve been told that some of my London paintings echo Hopper, which I take as a huge compliment! While the cinematic quality isn't always entirely intentional, it's certainly embedded in the way I see and construct an image, Cinema is a form of the arts after all. There’s a balance between instinct and influence that's developed over time. 

The Outro Lottie, thanks for the masterclass. It’s been a pleasure to see how that West Norfolk aesthetic informs your process.

Now that you’ve walked us through your version of ‘The Magnificent 7’ we’re officially hooked. We’ll be watching the horizon to see exactly where the tide takes your work next