Three years ago, I stood at the top of the bank above North Shields Fish Quay, looking up at the tall white presence of the High Light. It is one of those buildings that seems both practical and poetic at the same time. Solid. Functional. Unapologetically visible. I went home that day and began a sketch, knowing I wanted to do more than simply paint it. I wanted to build it.
The initial stage of this artwork was all about structure. I began on my kitchen table, laying down the foundations using cardboard and layered paper, attaching each piece to the canvas with wallpaper paste. I wanted the building to physically stand proud from the surface, to echo the way it rises above the Fish Quay itself. The chimneys, the shifting levels of the bank – all of it slowly took shape in relief. It was messy and methodical in equal measure. By the time I had finished that first phase, the bones of the piece were there. Then life intervened.
When I moved house, the artwork was carefully stored away. Days turned into months, and months into years. It sat quietly, half-formed, waiting. I would occasionally catch sight of it and think, I must finish that. But the timing never felt quite right. Until earlier this month.
Coming back to a piece after three years is a strange experience. You are not the same artist you were when you started it. Your eye has changed. Your confidence has shifted. I began painting over the textured collage surface, allowing the raised cardboard forms to guide the brush. The white of the High Light emerged, set against the sky and the layered fish quay below. The physical depth created subtle shadows, which gave the building a presence that a flat canvas could not quite achieve.
Once the painted layers were complete, I moved into detail. Using mainly pen, I added illustrated elements to sharpen edges and bring character into the scene. Windows, railings and guttering were defined. This stage always feels like a conversation between control and instinct. Too much detail can suffocate a piece; too little and it feels unfinished. I worked carefully, letting the texture underneath influence the marks above.
The final stage was about storytelling. I introduced additional flat paper collage elements to add interest and local texture. Pages from a book about fishing found their way into the composition, along with vintage scrap paper containing local references. These fragments ground the piece in place and history. They are subtle, but intentional.
The artwork has now been varnished, and framed. After three years in progress and pause, it is complete. It is currently on display in my gallery window and available to view on the website.
There is something satisfying about finishing a piece that has waited patiently. The High Light has stood overlooking North Shields for generations. Three years is nothing in comparison. But for me, this artwork carries that sense of time — of foundations laid, pauses taken, and the quiet persistence of returning to something worth finishing.
