Pride, Belonging and the London I Love

Every June, London's streets burst into colour. Pride flags appear in shop windows, community centres, offices and homes. They are symbols of visibility, acceptance and the simple but powerful belief that everyone deserves to be seen for who they are.

For me, Pride has always represented something larger than sexuality or gender identity. It represents belonging.

It says: there is space for you here. Whether you were born in Brixton or Bangalore. Whether your family has lived in Britain for generations or you've just arrived. Whether you're gay, straight, trans, queer, questioning or simply trying to find your place in the world. There is space for you here.

Lately, though, I've noticed something that makes me a bit sad. Across parts of Britain and beyond, Pride flags are quietly disappearing from public spaces. At the same time, we've seen a resurgence of national symbolism, with St George's flags becoming increasingly prominent. Now, I have absolutely nothing against the St George's flag. National identity and cultural pride matter. They should be celebrated. But I don't believe these symbols need to compete with one another. One of the things London taught me is that pride isn't a finite resource. Celebrating one identity doesn't diminish another. A city can be proudly English and proudly diverse.

The best versions of London have always understood this. That's partly what inspired my Pride in London print series. I wanted to reimagine some of London's most recognisable landmarks through the colours of Pride. Not as political statements, but as celebrations. Celebrations of visibility, diversity and the wonderfully varied people who make this city what it is. The prints are colourful because London is colourful.

When I think about inclusion, I often think about Brixton. Brixton has long been one of London's great stories of migration, culture and reinvention. It's a place where communities from around the world have shaped the character of a neighbourhood while preserving pieces of their own heritage. That's why one of my favourite illustrations is my Brixton print, where the market is draped with the flags of many nations. To me, those flags don't represent division. They represent contribution. They tell the story of people who arrived from somewhere else and helped create the Brixton we know today. Every flag represents a journey. Every flag represents a family. In many ways, that's my story too.

It's also the idea behind another collection that is particularly close to my heart- Migrants of London.

The series celebrates the migratory birds that arrive in Britain every year from across Europe, Africa and beyond. Birds don't carry passports. They don't apply for visas. They don't stop at borders. They simply arrive. Drawn by instinct, seasons and survival. And every year, Britain welcomes them. Nature doesn't see migration as a threat. It sees it as part of life.

Their journeys enrich our landscapes. Their presence is celebrated. The city becomes more vibrant because they are here. When I created the Migrants of London series, I wasn't trying to make a political statement. I was trying to tell a story about movement, connection and shared space. The more I think about it, the more connected these projects feel.

Especially now, when conversations around identity can feel increasingly polarised, I think it's worth remembering that inclusion isn't about choosing one flag over another. It's about making room for more flags. That's something worth celebrating during Pride Month.

And it's something worth celebrating every month of the year.

The Arsenal Emirates Stadium vs Highbury: Architecture, Design, and Legacy

I’ve walked to both stadiums more times than I can count. Sometimes on match days to the Emirates, sometimes just passing through the old Highbury stadium with a sketchbook in my bag. What always strikes me is how different the experience feels before you even step inside.

The walk to the Highbury stadium feels quiet, almost hidden. You turn a corner from a residential street and suddenly you’re face-to-face with something that doesn’t quite belong to the everyday rhythm of the city.

On the other hand, the approach to the Emirates Stadium is opposite! You see it from a distance. It announces itself early... all curve, scale, and movement. Both belong to Arsenal F.C. but architecturally, they feel like two completely different worlds.

Arsenal Highbury Stadium. Quiet Details and Human Scale.

The first time I properly stopped at Highbury, I wasn’t even thinking about football. I was looking at the façade.

The East Stand has this stillness to it. The symmetry, the vertical lines, the Art Deco detailing... it feels deliberate in a way most stadiums don’t. I remember standing across the street trying to sketch it quickly, but getting caught up in the small details instead. The lettering, the proportions, the way the entrance frames the space.

There’s something about the scale that makes it approachable. You don’t feel dwarfed by it. It sits within the street, almost politely. Even now, with the stadium converted into housing, that façade still holds its presence. It feels like a memory that hasn’t fully moved on.

The Emirates Stadium. Movement, Curve, and Scale.

The Emirates feels completely different before you even get close. You don’t arrive at it, you approach it.

Walking up from Holloway Road, the structure slowly reveals itself. First the upper edges, then the curve, then the full bowl. I remember taking photos the first time I circled it properly...not of the whole building, but of sections. The steel supports, the repeating patterns, the way light hits the surface differently depending on where you stand.

It’s a building that changes as you move around it. Where Highbury is about composition, the Emirates is about flow. Even sketching it feels different. At Highbury, you focus on symmetry. At the Emirates, you’re trying to capture motion and scale, which is much harder to pin down on paper.

Two Stadiums, Two Atmospheres

What surprised me most wasn’t just how they look, it’s how they feel. At Highbury, everything happens close together. The streets, the entrances, the structure. It all builds a sense of compression. Even without a crowd, you can imagine the intensity. At the Emirates, everything expands. The open spaces, the wide walkways, the scale creates distance as much as it creates presence.

I once walked around the Emirates early in the morning when it was completely empty. No fans, no movement — just the structure. It felt less like a stadium and more like a piece of infrastructure. Something designed to handle scale, rather than intimacy.

Sketching the Contrast.

When I started turning these spaces into prints, the differences became even clearer.

Highbury naturally lends itself to symmetry, framing and detail. You can almost centre it and let the architecture do the work.

Early Highbury Sketches

The Emirates is harder. You have to choose a moment- a curve, a shadow, a repeating structure. It’s less about capturing the whole building and more about capturing how it feels to move around it. That contrast is what makes them so compelling to draw and why they work so well as a pair.

My initial outline for the Emirates Print

Over time, I’ve come to see them less as “old vs new” and more as two different ways architecture responds to culture.

Highbury reflects a slower, more embedded relationship with the city whereas the Emirates reflects scale, efficiency, and modern expectation

Neither replaces the other. They just exist at different points in the same story.

Explore Prints and more

If you’re drawn to these buildings in the same way, I’ve created a set of Arsenal Stadium Art Prints that capture both Highbury and the Emirates. They’re designed to reflect the contrast between the two from Art Deco detail to modern structure, and to work as a series.

Arsenal Stadium Art Prints Bundle – Emirates & Highbury London Wall Art

From£11.00

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Arsenal FC Stadium Coasters

From£6.00

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Arsenal Highbury Tough iPhone Case

£24.00

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Arsenal FC Heritage Ceramic Mugs. Arsenal Highbury.

£15.00

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Moonlit Beauty. The Arsenal Stadium Illustrated Art Print

From£10.00

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A Weekend Escape to Margate: A Perfect Reset

Discovering the Charm of Margate

My mind needed a reset. The endless loop of school runs and after-school clubs had taken its toll. Shop admin, new prints, and an ongoing range commission were all good things, but they felt all-consuming.

Margate is barely an hour and a half from Bromley, yet it feels like a different world entirely. It was quiet this time of year, as expected. The weather hovered between seasons—neither sunny nor cold, just a little gloomy and wind-whipped. There were no crowds, no queues, and no weaving through tourists in narrow lanes or waiting endlessly for a table in one of those little cafés. Bliss. (Or maybe I’m just getting old.)

Margate’s brochures love to show off its colourful, quirky shopfronts and independent cafés. However, the first thing you see when you step out of the station is a massive grey Brutalist block—dark, brooding, and oddly beautiful against the overcast sky. As you walk further, the atmosphere shifts to something surreal: boarded-up shops, silent slot arcades, shuttered theatres, and graffiti. (I’m really not selling Margate, am I?)

The Old Town Experience

Then, you hit the Old Town—and everything shifts. The architecture softens. The lanes narrow into clusters of indie shops with colourful façades, the kind of small-town charm I’d been craving. If you love hipster cafés (like me)—avocado toast, sourdough, and matcha-turmeric lattes—this is your haven. I even found more vegan options here than anywhere in London. Curve quickly became a favourite: great coffee, a snack, and a little quiet time to work.

A Bookshop with a Twist

What’s lovelier than a tiny bookshop? A tiny bookshop that serves tea. Margate Bookshop is the kind of place made for slow wandering. Maybe it’s just me, but the locals here seemed genuinely friendly—quick to chat, share stories, and offer recommendations. It feels like a town where everyone knows everyone. The warmth shows in the murals, posters, and even the hand-painted signs.

Reflecting on Life

As the sun began to dip, I grabbed a cup of cocoa and wandered along the windy promenade. It was time to think about the past few months. Mostly my work, what I’d planned to achieve versus what I’d actually managed. I realised how much I’d neglected this blog. I used to write often: random musings, thoughts on my art, and photos from travels. Somewhere along the way, I’d lost that spark to write about the small yet significant moments. I hadn’t been reading much either.

I pulled a book from my bag, one I’d been carrying for months. I managed a few pages before the chill set in, then retreated to the warmth of a café overlooking the town square.

A Visit to The Turner Contemporary

The next morning was fresh and bright—perfect for what I’d been most looking forward to: The Turner Contemporary. This sharp, white, minimalist structure rises from the old town like a quiet statement. It’s not a large gallery, but it is beautifully curated. I was captivated by Simone Leigh’s sculptures, Bisi and Untitled—powerful and serene against the wall of windows framing the sea.

It takes about twenty minutes to wander through, and the shop is worth a browse. If you’re looking for a peaceful spot to work with a sea view, I highly recommend Louie by the Sea Café inside Turner. The coffee’s good, the view’s better, and it’s the perfect place to pause and get through a few lingering tasks.

Exploring Local Boutiques

There are some lovely design-led boutiques and stores that shouldn't be missed. Harbour & Tide by the promenade, The Store Collective on Hawley Street, Asobi Store, and Aaarven in the Old Town. A few hidden galleries and the occasional artist at work by the window—it's a town full of small creative surprises.

Future Visits

I avoided anything labelled “tourist attraction,” though I’ll probably return with my son one day to explore the Shell Grotto and Margate Caves, maybe even Dreamland, when the weather’s kinder.

For now, I’m heading back to London. Ready for a big mug of tea and an even bigger cuddle from the four-year-old I’ve absolutely missed.