What were you doing before you started linoprinting professionally?
After studying at Falmouth Art College, I left my home county of Cornwall and moved upcountry to pursue a career as a professional photographer. I worked hard and was busy and over time created a bit of a niche for myself photographing the unsung heroes of the countryside: farmers, organic growers, wood carvers, basket-weavers and the like. I was drawn to their dedication, traditional, time-honoured techniques, and the passion of those who work with their hands. I began to feel a pull towards more simple, analogue craft myself, and as photography became digital and I spent more time in front of a screen, that feeling grew steadily.
How did Linoprinting first enter your life?
I have always been practical. Even as a child I was always fixing, building and mending things with Dad in the workshop. I was also terrible at sitting still and I still am! I cannot while away an evening on the sofa with a book like my wife can – I need my hands to be busy. Back in 2019 we decided we would like a dedicated space for our creative hobbies, so I built a workbench out of old scaffold boards in an underused spare room. I sat there and thought to myself – what now? I had always been a huge admirer of Angela Harding’s work, among many other printmakers, and the idea of lino carving came to mind – it only requires simple tools and you can get started with minimal fuss, which was very appealing. From that very first print, of my cat Lottie curled up asleep on a dressing gown, I was hooked and ended up spending more time in that new studio space than I ever expected.
Was there a specific moment when it shifted from a hobby to a business?
I had only been carving for a year when the pandemic hit and suddenly the world, and with it my photography work, ground to a halt. The allotment wasn’t going to keep me busy enough, so I picked up my lino tools in earnest, and as my confidence grew, I set up a shop on Etsy to see if I could sell a few prints. I sold more than a few and was delighted to have a craft to call my own. I loved the whole process – from carving to printing – and when my photography work restarted, I carried on with my side hustle in the evenings and at weekends as it brought me so much joy. The print sales continued and I upgraded from an antique French Nipping Press to a tabletop Pooki Press, finally investing in an Ironbridge Printmakers Etching Press which enabled me to streamline and professionalise my process. But if you had asked me then, I would still have said I was a photographer who did a bit of printmaking on the side.
What gave you the confidence to take it seriously?
There were little moments that made me think, maybe I was on to something. I remember a family approached me during Oxfordshire Artweeks and said: ‘we look at your eggs and soldiers print every time we come down in the morning and every day it makes us smile.’ Comments like that made my day. Another reason for optimism was that my Instagram account had grown steadily and by 2024, I had 20,000 followers who were touchingly positive about my work.
I felt there was an opportunity to take people behind the scenes on Instagram, into my studio, to explain more about this fantastic printmaking process. I asked a friend, Emma, who is also a videographer, to create some reels for me. In the beginning these were very simple, just me carving away at my scaffold board desk, singeing the edge of the lino with a candle, rolling the ink and pulling the print through the press. Simple but hugely popular, so we carried on making them, and people carried on watching.
I had said to myself in January, maybe I could reach 30,000 followers by the end of the year. In fact, by the end of 2024, I had 90,000 followers after a particularly lovely storytelling reel went viral, reaching over 2.6 million people. My work was suddenly reaching a much wider audience, sales soared, all because we showcased the hidden process behind the prints. People were drawn, as I had been, to a traditional craft, something real, tangible, honest and handmade. I was delighted and realised that perhaps I was now a printmaker who used to be a photographer, and we could fulfil the dream and move home to Cornwall. A few months later, that is exactly what we did.
When did you first carve a lino block?
It was February 2019, the new studio space was ready with its handmade table, and I sat there twiddling my thumbs, unsure what to do next. My wife always has a craft on the go, and while she was wire sculpting a bird on one side of the desk, I decided to order a simple lino printing kit. It would have been very cheap and basic, as I had no idea at this point in five years printmaking would become my career! The first few blocks included my cat Lottie, an ammonite, which was a wonderful regular shape and carving challenge, and an old box film camera that sits on my desk. Several other first blocks I am sure went in the bin before they were ever printed, but on the whole, I loved this new craft. I loved the learning, the satisfaction of quickly improving, and the different stages of the process were thoroughly enjoyable. I was hooked.
What were your first prints like?
The wonderful thing about lino printmaking is that you can become more accomplished fairly quickly with practice. I did not have trouble finding subject matter – with a photographer’s eye, I could see print ideas everywhere, from the curated clutter on my desk to memories of a sunny day by my favourite Cornish harbour. Inspiration was both in front of my eyes and in memories of my homeland. Living in landlocked Oxfordshire was lovely and we were very happy there, but I had always dreamed of moving home and found that linoprintmaking was a way to travel back to the coast in my mind and then immortalise the memory in print form.
I did not have a printing press for quite a while and used to burnish the print with a wooden spoon I had pilfered from the kitchen. This worked fine for early experiments, and although they were under-printed in places and a little inconsistent, I felt they had a certain charm.
This first foray into printmaking was addictive and I would disappear off for five minutes into the studio in the early evening, only to hear a call from my wife at 9pm asking if I would like a cup of tea before she went to bed.
Did you teach yourself or formally train?
I did two workshops in the first year – a half-day carving a feather and a full day making a larger print. In general though, it was very much trial and error and having fun with it. I would pick up a block and my carving tools whenever I could, and I think you learn so much when you are enjoying yourself.
What was the first piece that made you think ‘this could actually sell’?
One that really stands out from my early work is called ‘Your Tea is on the Table’. It is an imagined view of a kitchen table with two plates and two Cornish pasties (one half eaten) and a cat watching a fishing boat coming into the harbour through the window. Although my dad wasn’t a fisherman (he was a gardener), this was inspired by my father being late home from work and Mum starting tea without him. It was an edition of 25 and it sold out, minus the one that hangs on my parents’ kitchen wall. It is naive in technique as it is an early work but all the more charming for it.
How do you approach colour in your prints?
I first started with pure black but found it a little too harsh, so I used to mix black, white and blue together to create a shade I was happy with. This inky blue/black is inspired by the deep Cornish sea and works well in a variety of interiors. This was never very scientific, which wasn’t a problem until people started buying multiple prints for their walls and I needed something consistent. During a conversation with Jenny at Ironbridge Printmakers, who made my Gunning etching press, the idea of creating a Lino Lord ink together was suggested. They now manufacture my own shade, Lino Lord ‘Lugger Blue’, which I use every day and also sell to customers. I occasionally go off-piste with an orange or green but I always feel drawn back to Lugger Blue.
What colours feel most you and why?
It is an interesting question, I feel most drawn to blues in my wardrobe and seek out blues in the environment around me, most notably in the sea.
Does your environment influence your palette?
I am at least third-generation Cornish and everything I do is influenced by my homeland. I feel deeply connected to Cornwall and my Cornishness very much defines me and my art. I love the sea: whether wild and untamed, foaming and furious, or a calm, turquoise millpond. My sea legs are better suited to dry land but I am happiest looking out at the sea whatever the weather, and my style, subject and palette are influenced by this more than anything.
Can you describe your process from sketch to final print?
I often take a sketchbook out with me in my bag on a day trip to the local harbour. However, I am more likely to have my camera around my neck, and I take most inspiration from my photographs. After 25 years as a professional photographer, I can spot an interesting composition. I can see shapes within the shot and am always looking for interplay between positive and negative space. This is extremely useful as designs must be simplified before carving, with a generous helping of artistic license, and you also need to imagine the image in reverse and inverse. It is the sort of problem-solving I enjoy.
Once the design is drawn by pencil on the lino, I start carving, which is immensely satisfying. It is a very meditative process; I sit at my desk in my studio overlooking the hills, often with the radio on, a strong coffee at my side and my whippet, Finn, by my feet. Nothing beats it.
Once the block is carved and I am happy, I start printing. My press is downstairs in my one-up one-down studio and on summer days I print with the door open and watch village life through the big windows. I roll out the ink on a sheet of glass on top of a plan chest and then apply the thinned ink to the block. I carefully register it on the press, lay pre-prepared paper on top, and haul the wheel – an action that reminds me of a fisherman at the wheel, although printing is much more sedate.
The magic moment comes when I peel the print from the block. Sometimes there is a little chatter to tidy up, but more often than not I am happy with the result, and the thrill never dims.
What draws you to linoprint as a medium?
I think first and foremost it is the simplicity of the process and the tools and the honest nature of the result. There is no tinkering with the print in post production, what you see is the negative of the carving on the block, and it is as honest as the day is long. In a digital world where we question what we see daily, I love that you can trust a lino print, and every little flaw or imperfection makes it more perfect in my eyes. Linoprints are made by the human hand alone, there is no hiding behind technology. My hands as a photographer were always clean and soft and now they are slightly rough, nicked by a sharp tool and often a faint shade of inky blue. It is funny that growing up, I intended to study sculpture, although now I view my printmaking as a sort of 3D art, carving deep grooves into the lino rather than drawing on top. My compositions have more than a nod to 3D, since I like to play with perspective, encouraging the viewer to look down on harbour boats but simultaneously out over the horizon, as if they are right there.
What is the most technically challenging part?
Without a doubt, the printing part is the most challenging. The pressure must be correct on the roller, the ink must be the correct consistency and temperature, and the registration on the press must be just right. Some days, one or more of these things just does not add up and it is misprint after misprint. However, those days are far fewer now and I have learned from all my mistakes.
What makes a print feel heirloom worthy?
I am grateful that people buy and enjoy my prints and put them on their walls. That makes me proud. Sometimes people choose them because the location has meaning, or it evokes a memory. Sometimes the prints just raise a little smile. I love that the prints will be hanging on Planet Earth longer than me and future generations may find their own connection to them. That thought brings me great joy.
How do people typically display your work?
Framed and on their walls. Sometimes people buy several to create a series of scenes or items. I also love hearing people have bought my prints as gifts, which is very special.
Do you design with particular interiors in mind?
No, but I always create prints I would happily hang on my own wall. I like to think there is something for everyone.
Are you inspired by traditional printmaking or contemporary design?
I am inspired by the artists of Newlyn and St Ives. I love the naive style and the way it tells tales of traditional industry and times gone by. My work has a modern, almost graphic style, with bold compositions from my photography. I would describe my work as nostalgic yet modern.
Where do you look for inspiration day to day?
The coast. Always the coast. I am not a fisherman or swimmer, but I find happiness in winding back streets of traditional fishing villages, watching the boats bob in the harbour and the fishermen bringing in the daily catch.
Do you sketch often?
Sometimes, but I am a photographer through and through, capturing inspiration through my lens. Photography allows me to capture fleeting moments to look back on later in my studio, and it will always be the medium that inspires me most.
Are you more inspired by nature, architecture, people or pattern?
Nature in the coastline itself, but the harbours and boats I love are deeply connected to the Cornish people – fishing is hard, often dangerous work, little changed over centuries, and deeply embedded in who we are.
What ordinary details do you find beautiful?
I find all sorts of everyday moments and items beautiful – coffee pots, pot plants, a sun-bleached rowing boat moored on the harbour wall. Alongside coastal prints, I have a series of retro chic designs celebrating the extraordinary everyday, with items such as unspooling cassette tapes proving popular.
What has been your biggest pinch me moment so far?
I have had a few, but one is producing the 2026 calendar for The Fisherman’s Mission charity, featuring 12 coastal designs from my archive with proceeds going to fishing families in need. I was also privileged to create a Christmas card design for Horatio’s Garden, a charity creating beautiful gardens at rehabilitation centres. These have been meaningful moments in my career.
Would you ever move into textiles, wallpaper or homewares?
Yes, absolutely. I already have tea towels screen printed in Cornwall which are popular. I would love to expand the range – my Turbot print would be perfect on a chef’s apron. Wallpaper or textiles would be a dream.
What’s next for the brand?
My Cornish and coastal original prints are the backbone of Lino Lord. That is what I love to create and my customers love too. I get caught up in admin and marketing, so what is next is to grow my small team to give me more time to carve and print. I enjoy being an educator, holding face-to-face linoprint workshops, and seeing what students produce. I have also launched an online course, which is very exciting.
Where would you like to be in five years?
I am delighted to be exactly where I want geographically, living in my beloved Cornwall. It took 25 years to get back and I am not going anywhere. With Lino Lord, I will focus on creating new work, finding inspiration in the coastline, and celebrating Cornish heritage. I enjoy studio visitors – the dream is a studio with a workshop, a shop, and even a small café. That would be the ultimate goal.