Returning to Lambeth Bridge
One of the unexpected pleasures of being an artist is occasionally being given the opportunity to revisit a subject years later.
Several years ago I painted End of the Day, Lambeth Bridge, a painting created directly from life on the banks of the Thames. It was one of those evenings when everything seemed to come together: the fading light, the movement of the river, the illuminated buildings, and the atmosphere that settles over London as day gives way to night.
The painting found a collector, but its journey did not end there.
Some time later, I was contacted by a client who had fallen in love with the original work. Unfortunately it had already sold. However, the location held particular significance for him, having spent many years working at St Thomas’ Hospital overlooking the Thames. Rather than being disappointed, he commissioned a new painting inspired by the same view.
I was delighted.

Not only because it offered the opportunity to create a painting for someone with such a strong personal connection to the subject, but because it allowed me to return to a location I knew well and see it again with fresh eyes.
This time the painting would be larger, more ambitious, and perhaps more importantly, approached with several more years of experience behind me.
As always, the process began from life.
I returned to the riverbank with sketchbook, charcoal and painting materials, working quickly to establish the drawing and colour relationships before the light disappeared completely. Evening subjects are always a race against time. The most beautiful moments often last only minutes before the character of the scene changes entirely.
The British weather had other ideas. Rain interrupted part of the process, forcing me indoors where I continued working from studies and observations gathered on location. Even from a hotel room overlooking the city, the painting continued to develop.




Back in the studio, layer by layer, the larger composition began to emerge.
Looking at the original painting alongside the commission, what strikes me most is not the difference in subject but the difference in approach.
The newer painting feels more assured. The drawing is stronger. The paint handling is more confident. There is greater energy in the brushwork and a clearer understanding of what is essential and what can be left unsaid.
As artists we rarely notice our own progress because it happens gradually. Day by day, painting by painting, sketchbook after sketchbook. Yet occasionally a project such as this provides a rare opportunity to look back and see the distance travelled.
The original painting captured a particular evening on the Thames.
The commission captured that same place, but through the eyes of a more experienced painter.
Perhaps that is one of the greatest gifts of returning to familiar subjects. We discover that whilst the place may remain largely unchanged, we ourselves have not.
And it is often within that difference that the most interesting paintings emerge.
If you are interested in commissioning a painting of a place that holds personal significance, I would be delighted to hear from you.