Solstice — capturing the essence of winter's shortest day

My new painting 'Solstice' is based on a walk I took on 21st December 2025 — the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year.

The winter solstice happens when the Earth’s axis is tilted furthest away from the sun. For those of us in the Northern Hemisphere, that means the sun sits at its lowest point in the sky at midday. We get the least daylight and the longest night. After that, the days slowly start getting longer again.

For our ancestors, this mattered. Understanding the seasons meant survival. Knowing when animals would migrate, when the weather would shift, when to prepare for change — it was all tied to the sun and the land. The solstice marked the end of one cycle and the start of another. For artists, there is something grounding and spiritual about that.

The Walk

I was out walking in the Chew Valley, part of the Peak District National Park — a place I go most weeks. I’ve walked this particular trail countless times. There’s water running alongside it that always catches the light in interesting ways, and hawthorn trees that cast long shadows across the path in winter. But this morning, the light was different. That morning felt like nature laying out the full colour spectrum in front of me.

Studying the Colour Spectrum 

I’ve spent years trying to understand how to paint blues properly. Warm blues — the ones with a touch of yellow in them — hold light differently. Mix white into a cold blue and suddenly red undertones appear. Shift the balance slightly and the whole feeling changes. It’s subtle, but our brains pick up on it straight away. 

The Winter Blues

On this day the sun hung low on the horizon and everything was washed in cyans, magentas and soft pinks. The snow became this incredible surface for reflected colour. Snow isn’t just white — it picks up whatever light you give it. The blues shift depending on what you mix into them. It’s taken me years to understand how to get those “warm blues” right.  Studying these scenes is a lesson in colour theory. 

Catching the Right Light

What struck me most was how familiar the scene was — and yet how completely transformed it felt. I’d never seen it quite like that before.  It was the same place I always walk, just caught at exactly the right moment. Sometimes that’s all it takes — the right light, at the right time — to turn something ordinary into something special. One of my previous paintings 'Distant Sun' sprang from a similar moment in time, when everything aligned to inspire one of my most cherished works on canvas. 

Solstice marks a turning point in the seasons

I’ve always loved watching the seasons change. There’s something reassuring about it. The solstice is simple, really — it’s the lowest point of light, and from there things begin to shift back the other way. 'Solstice' is my way of marking that turning point. It’s about  recognising that even on the shortest day, the light is still there. 

When a Familiar Place Feels New

I’ve walked that stretch so many times. The water always reflects the sky beautifully there, but I’d never caught it in that light before.  Everything felt still, almost suspended. It wasn’t dramatic or loud. And there was something quietly moving about it — standing there on the shortest day, knowing this was the lowest the light would go. From here on, you can feel that shift in the air, even if nothing looks different yet.

Painting the Turning Point

Solstice is about that quiet turning point — the pause before things begin to open up again. It’s about noticing the light when it’s at its most fragile. I didn’t want to paint something grand or symbolic. I just wanted to hold onto that moment. The cold air. The low sun. The way the snow carries both warmth and chill at the same time. The perfect moment captured on canvas.