The anatomy of a commission

Most commissions start the same way: a message, a photograph, and a story. Someone's dad raced this bike. Someone's grandfather stood at that corner every year. The photo is usually terrible — a scan of a scan, or a shot taken from the far side of a hedge in 1987 — and that's completely fine. The story is what matters.

From there we talk. What's the moment? The win, the wheelie, the quiet portrait? Landscape or portrait format, and where will it hang? I'll sketch a rough composition and send it over before a drop of paint goes down, so nobody's surprised.

Then the slow part begins. Blocking in, building up, chasing the light on a tank until it looks wet. I'll send progress shots along the way — people love watching it appear. When it's done, it's signed, sealed and sent, ready to go on the wall it was always meant for.

If there's a piece living in your head, that's all it takes to start. It all begins with an idea.