Neils Yard Kings Cross

The Barbican is brutalist London at its most unapologetic. Concrete towers. Elevated walkways. A maze of levels and passages that feel more like a film set than a neighborhood. People either love it or hate it – there's not much middle ground.

I love it. Not for what it is, but for what it sits next to.

This painting captures one of those moments where old London and new London collide. Victorian arches meet modern high-rises. Historic walls stand next to glass and steel. And somehow, instead of clashing, they have a conversation.

The walkway is busy with people moving through their day. There's greenery creeping in at the edges – London's insistence that nature will find a way, even here. The sky is soft, diffused through clouds, giving everything that particular London light that makes concrete look almost warm.

The Barbican gets called ugly a lot. But standing there, painting it, I couldn't see ugly. I just saw layers. History refusing to be erased. The present pushing forward. And somewhere in between, a kind of awkward beauty.