Torre Abbey: The 6 ft Paintings. Pt. 1

 I was recently awarded a residency at the historic Torre Abbey, a former monastery built in 1196. After Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries, the Abbey was purchased by the Cary family, who owned much of the surrounding land, including Cockington Court, just up the road. Cockington Court, now council-owned along with Torre Abbey, runs a scheme that allows creatives like me to rent studio space.

Torre Abbey recently secured a significant restoration grant to address damage caused by water ingress—much of it linked to outdated cement render and the inevitable wear of time. As part of the restoration effort, my residency is part of an initiative to engage the public, showcasing how art can connect people to this historic site while supporting local creatives who often face limited opportunities in the area.

The residency brief was to create immersive artwork reflecting the concept of nature reclaiming the Abbey. For me, it was also an opportunity to push myself and paint on a big scale.

Why 6 ft Paintings?

While I’ve worked on large pieces before—4 or 5 ft at most—these new paintings would be 6 ft by roughly 3 ft. This leap in scale came with logistical challenges and risks, particularly because these aren’t commissioned works. Producing two paintings at this size is a gamble. Frankly, I’m not sure I can bring them back to my studio and find somewhere to store them.

So why two? Well, the space allocated for my work made the decision for me. The paintings will hang in a dramatic void, where the Abbey’s ancient wall is visible across three floors. Balconies on either side provide unique viewing angles, and the pieces will need to hang at right angles to the wall, creating a double-sided experience. The idea of creating two back-to-back paintings felt both daunting and exciting—I find that, although sometimes a rollercoaster of self-doubt and panic, it is a way of forcing me into a habit of consistent work and a target to work towards.

Laying the Groundwork

The first step was ordering stretcher bars. On smaller projects, I often paint on panels or order pre-stretched canvases in specific sizes. But at this scale, pre-stretched canvases were impractical and prohibitively expensive. Plus, I wanted to spend time refining my compositions, which involved preliminary drawings and a bit of geometry (I’ll spare you the technical details). Once I finalised my dimensions, I placed the order for custom stretcher bars.

When the bars arrived, I was relieved to find they were exceptionally sturdy—just what you need for such large canvases. Instead of traditional wedges for tightening, these bars featured a modern locking mechanism tightened with an Allen key. Once I figured out how it worked, stretching and preparing the canvases became an art in itself.

I even documented the process with a time-lapse video, capturing the transformation from raw materials to blank, primed surfaces. This preparation felt like a ritual, grounding me in the project and underscoring the scale of what I was about to undertake.

The Allure of Large-Scale Work

There’s something uniquely immersive about painting on this scale. The sheer size demands a different approach to composition, movement, and energy. It also invites the viewer to step closer and feel enveloped by the work, which is perfect for exploring the theme of nature reclaiming space.

The Abbey’s gardens and grounds offered endless inspiration, but I wanted to go beyond simple representation. My goal is to capture the essence of the place: the interplay of structure and decay, the way light filters through foliage, and the inevitable force of nature reclaiming its territory. There would be plenty of invention which requires a lot more thought than just having the subject at hand to paint, which comes much more naturally for me.

Next Steps

With the canvases ready, the real challenge begins: beginning with drawings—always plenty of time in the sketchbook—and then translating my vision into brushstrokes on the larger scale without it becoming stilted, trying to keep the vigour and energy of a plein air piece. In Part 2, I’ll delve into how I approached the first marks, the unexpected challenges I encountered, and how the Abbey itself influenced the direction of my work.