The stories, humour and hidden lives behind my most recognisable characters

There are plenty of paintings of beautiful women. But not Owd Lasses Paintings.

There are paintings of aristocrats, celebrities, influencers and people whose stories are already being told.

I paint Owd Lasses.

Not because they’re fashionable, but because they’re fascinating.

The women who inspire my paintings are often the ones society stops noticing. The woman standing at the bus stop in a grey coat. The one clutching a handbag tightly at a wedding. The widow who still puts her lipstick on before going to bingo. The retired dinner lady who knows everyone’s secrets but never tells them. The woman who has buried husbands, raised children, survived hardship, and still finds something to laugh about.

These are not portraits of specific people.

They are characters built from hundreds of observations gathered over a lifetime.

Growing Up Around Strong Women

I grew up in Lancashire surrounded by women who could make you laugh until your sides hurt, then break your heart with a story from their past five minutes later.

Many had lived extraordinary lives but would never have described themselves as extraordinary.

They had survived rationing, factory work, difficult marriages, financial hardship, armed robbery (!) and family dramas that would fill several television series.

Yet they carried on.

Making tea.

Looking after everybody else.

Keeping families together.

Often without recognition.

Their humour was rarely gentle. It was sharp, observational and sometimes gloriously inappropriate. A survival mechanism disguised as a punchline.

That humour finds its way into my paintings.

More Than a Joke

People often laugh when they first encounter an Owd Lass.

That’s intentional.

Humour is the doorway.

But if someone spends a little longer with the painting, I hope they discover something else.

Melancholy.

Memory.

Resilience.

Recognition.

Many collectors tell me an Owd Lass reminds them of a grandmother, aunt, neighbour or friend.

Sometimes it’s the expression.

Sometimes it’s the posture.

Sometimes it’s simply a feeling.

The paintings may be fictional, but the emotions behind them are real.

The Britain We Don’t Talk About Enough

Much of the Britain that shaped me is disappearing.

Working men’s clubs.

Mill towns.

Precincts.

Family weddings in function rooms.

Day trips on coaches.

Bingo halls.

Places where communities gathered and stories were exchanged.

I don’t paint these places from a sense of nostalgia alone. I paint them because they matter.

They tell us who we were and, in many ways, who we still are.

The Owd Lasses become a way of preserving those stories.

Not as museum pieces, but as living characters.

Why Their Stories Matter

As people grow older, society often expects them to fade quietly into the background.

The Owd Lasses refuse.

They remain opinionated, funny, mischievous, stubborn, glamorous, judgemental, hopeful, disappointed, resilient and occasionally outrageous.

In other words, human.

I want these paintings to celebrate lives that are often overlooked.

The women who kept things going.

The women who knew where the bodies were buried.

The women who had stories worth telling.

Serious Art — With a Wink

If there is a thread running through all my work, it is this:

I am interested in ordinary people.

Not because they are ordinary.

Because they aren’t.

Every Owd Lass has a story.

Every expression hints at a history.

Every painting begins with a question:

“Who is she, and what has she seen?”

The answers are rarely straightforward.

And that’s exactly why I keep painting them.

Explore the Owd Lasses Collection

If you’ve ever recognised your nan, your auntie, your neighbour, or even a little bit of yourself in one of these characters, you can explore the full Owd Lasses collection here.

Because the best stories are often hiding in plain sight.