London based painter Imogen Webb has a lifelong fascination with the natural world, and her bold, expressive paintings capture the wonder of her lived experience. Working abstractly, she harnesses the energy and atmosphere of a specific moment of inspiration, whether it is mushroom formations on a forest floor or shifting light in the landscape, translating them into colour, light, space and form.

Joy is the driving force behind Imogen's practice. It is embedded in both her process and her belief in art as a joyful refuge. Inspired by her life in London, the views along the canal, the changing seasons, the beauty of the natural world, she translates feeling and energy into paintings that have real movement.

We chatted with Imogen about her practice and what inspires her. Read on!

Your paintings are full of life and spontaneity, but your background in architecture suggests a sense of structure. How do both of these practices interact in your work?

Painting is the medium through which I can let loose. It allows me to respond to my creative ideas intuitively and spontaneously. My architectural background plays a subtle but important role in my work. It informs my sense of composition, as well as my awareness of proportion and balance.

Architectural drawings are often intended to convey depth on a two-dimensional plane. This principle heavily influences how I construct space within my paintings.

You describe your paintings as interpretations of space. What does ‘space’ mean to you in abstract painting?

My paintings are built up in layers: I begin with the furthest background and work forwards. I am always trying to evoke a three-dimensional experience and think about space in terms of positive and negative areas. The quieter, more open parts of the painting are just as important as the more active, energetic zones. 

In that sense, my painting process is closely tied to architectural drawing techniques, where information is structured and revealed in a deliberate way.

How do you know when a painting has reached its final form?

I often spend a long time deciding whether a painting is complete. When I feel a piece is nearing its final form, I try to step away (so I don’t risk overworking it) and place it somewhere prominent so I can live with it and assess it over time. 

Over the following days or weeks, the finishing touches usually reveal themselves to me. I then rehang the painting and live with it again for a while before I varnish it… just in case I feel it isn’t finished after all! 

There are pieces I’ve revisited after months, ultimately deciding to rework them entirely. I love the way that remnants of earlier iterations remain as subtle traces or shadows within the final composition.

Is there a painting in your career that marked a turning point for you in your development as an artist?

I’ve painted all my life, and always sensed that abstraction would be the way for me to express my emotions, imagination, and creative energy. But for many years, I found myself unable to take the leap in this direction. 

I took an inspiring and hands-on abstract painting course and it unlocked something for me. From then on, my abstract practice began to develop with greater confidence and freedom, and the work has continued to evolve from there.

Could you describe the perfect day in your studio?

The perfect day in my studio usually begins with the excitement of starting a new piece. When I feel that initial spark, it’s much easier to slip into an all encompassing flow state.

I’ll put on music that reflects the mood of what I’m trying to create, and from there I can disappear into my own world. In those moments, I’m fully focused on the act of painting. I let instinct guide the process rather than overthinking it and time tends to fall away… I can work for hours like this without really noticing. The only interruption is the practical one of waiting for layers to dry, which can sometimes test my patience, but it’s all part of the process.

Does a painting begin with clear intention, or does the work reveal itself through the process?

I always have a jumping off point, which is often a photo of something I have observed in nature, and accompanying sketches. I follow a specific moment of inspiration like beautiful mushroom formations on the forest floor.

I may plot a basic idea of form and composition in my sketchbook. This approach sets the intention for the piece; however, I do not like to be wedded to a rigid plan or try to dictate what the finished piece will look like. The process stays very organic. 

Nature is a recurring source of inspiration for you, what is it that resonates so deeply with you?

When I’m outdoors I feel a sense of ease and clarity, man made environments rarely move me in the same way… what draws me most is the inherent mystery of the natural world. It carries a kind of quiet magic. 

The processes of nature are not fully knowable, and I find deep wonder in something that isn’t controlled, and that evolves beyond us humans. The openness and unpredictability of nature invites curiosity rather than conclusion, that’s where I feel most inspired.

You grew up in the Warwickshire countryside and it clearly left a lasting impression. Are there particular memories or landscapes that continue to find their way into your paintings?

My childhood laid the foundations for how I relate to the natural world. I spent hours exploring ponds, watching wildlife, climbing trees, picking fruit and making 'perfume' from petals. Those memories don't translate into specific imagery, but they've shaped how I see and experience nature. My work is less about depicting the landscape than holding onto that sense of wonder.

Rather than depicting nature directly, you translate its energy into abstraction. What draws you to that approach?

I've always felt constrained by figurative work. Abstraction gives me the freedom to respond intuitively and translate feeling, energy and atmosphere. It's a much more honest process for me, allowing emotion and movement to flow directly into the work.

Joy is central to your work. What role does it play?

Joy sits at the heart of what I want my work to offer. Painting is a refuge from the noise of the outside world and a way of processing what's happening around me while creating moments of optimism. I hope people feel uplifted when they live with the work and that they bring their own memories and emotions to it.

Looking back, what creative advice would you give your younger self?

I'd tell my younger self to have confidence in sharing my work. Building an audience takes intention as well as creativity. Painting itself still surprises me too - every piece is shaped by responsive decisions, and that unpredictability is what keeps the process exciting."

When you're not in the studio, where do you find inspiration?

Everywhere. From Greenwich Park and friends' gardens to mountains in the Cairngorms, orange trees in Seville or a stormy Midlands sky. I'm always observing. Living in London also means incredible access to galleries, museums and green spaces. I regularly escape to Tower Hamlets Cemetery Park, where, despite being in Zone 2, it feels like stepping into the wilderness.