West Pier Murmuration Crescent Moon

Print description

The remains of Brighton’s West Pier after the sunset with a murmuration of starlings flying above.

Print details

Digital pigment print from original ink drawings. Printed on fine art paper using archival inks. Available in sizes A0,A1, A2, A3 or A4 as limited editions of 100. Each print is individually signed and numbered.

Brighton’s West Pier

Brighton’s West Pier

Brighton West Pier begins out over the water in 1866, a thin line between land and sea. It was designed by Eugenius Birch, who trusted iron, tides, and a certain quiet elegance. Its screw-piles drill down into the seabed, a simple but radical idea, while the open lattice frame lets the sea pass through without resistance.

At first it was a place for promenading, all footsteps, parasols, and slow seaside rituals. Gradually it grew. Bandstands, kiosks, and small structures appeared along its length, leading to a pavilion at the far end. Later, a concert hall brought music and crowds, turning the pier into a lively destination stretching out over the water.

The design mixes engineering and ornament, strength and lightness, function and display. It feels both practical and theatrical, a structure built to endure but also to delight.

It closed in 1975, and time took over. Storms, fire, and decay stripped it back to its frame. What remains is not just a ruin but a kind of drawing in space, an unfinished line that still holds the memory of movement, people, and the long reach out into the sea.

In 2019 I held an exhibition at the West Pier Centre where I showed my work. My interest in this charismatic structure is well documented in numerous prints where I have featured the remains of the West Pier.West Pier.

New print series: The Belt of Venus

The Belt of Venus. The Belt of Venus is a soft pink glow that appears just before sunrise or after sunset, hovering above the horizon opposite the sun. It’s caused by sunlight scattering through the atmosphere, often separated from the horizon by the darker band of Earth’s shadow. In winter, the colour can feel sharper and more vivid.

I’m often looking up—through windows at night, cycling along the seafront, or walking home past Brunswick Square in Hove. Those skies, along with childhood evenings spent studying constellations with a torch and a sky map, have led to a new series of prints: