A beautiful print of many, many birds in flight hangs by my bedside. It is a perfect circle of airborne seabirds. A maelstrom of wings that swoop and soar. Countless, delicately drawn souls. The canvas is crowded and difficult to take in all at once, and yet it brings me a deep sense of calm. … More Cathartic


A curved canvas. Full of waves and clouds. Tide-shifted sands, spun by the elements. Horizons meet beneath the tide-line. An ironic composition, when paint rubs off to reveal beauty. Love- lacquered layers of paint incited, As praiseworthy as a Ruskin landscape or John Nash painting.   Yet brought to life without hands. No, rather The … More Seascape

Joyful Hue

Feathered wings against the grain, Inky blue flies home again; Ashen-black hoods swoop to nest, Superstitions put to rest.   Copyright Tom Tide 2017  

Draw what you see

Splodges. Squiggles. Paint blots. A lady in a headscarf? An elephant! Thus my mind went a swooping when I saw this ‘Draw what you see’ canvas outside an art shop in Bristol. It was proudly displayed on a trestle table on the pavement, and attracted a great many amateur artists. My son gravitated towards it, … More Draw what you see

Mischeif and longing

An expression to turn Mona Lisa green with envy! A labyrinthine riddle of a face. What maelstrom of thoughts created such a moment So briefly set in time? What comment or happenstance drew such mischief? Or longing? Those eyes that glow with intense recognition. I know you. I know your thoughts. Those eyes that make me … More Mischeif and longing


One for Cobalt, Two-Sea Green; Three for Copper, Four for Cream. Five? Cerulean. Six for Jet- Seven for all, flashing bright at Sunset.   Copyright Tom Tide 2017


A rare hue scarce seen, save in dreams or on canvas. As rare and precious of that finest of spices. Lizzie Sidall, yet more vibrant. Potent. Hair of a Goddess. So potent and lingering, my eyes are still suffused . Such were my thoughts, presented with auburn haze. Then she turned, and her glowing blossomed, … More Saffron

St Ives

Cobbled streets ingrained with sand. Shops remembered. Resurrected from memories. Every street corner beginning with ‘do you remember when”? Because we do. We measure out our lives in recollections, with this as our setting. Tides roll in, lives move on. Surf retreats, we honour those past. Yet cherish the living. Every year, we bask in … More St Ives