In Travelling Companions, we first meet Jack, though he does not announce himself. He is under the seat, half in shadow, half in light, watching. Beside him stands Toby, otherwise known as Toblerone: black, bristling, alert to the world. The composition separates them through posture and colour. Toby stands vertical and attentive, his silhouette crisp against stacked luggage and a green-blue wall. Jack occupies the lower register. The light reaches him more gently. From the outset, colour defines character. Toby holds the darker tones close; Jack catches and returns the light.

Travel begins in waiting. Suitcases stack like chapters not yet opened. A leash draws a red line between bodies, between intention and hesitation. Toby faces outward, reading the platform with quiet vigilance. Jack turns towards his friend. Friendship is the first journey.

In Learning to Share, Jack steps forward. He stands in a doorway framed by saturated greens and a blade of yellow light cutting between two figures. A red skirt and polka-dotted heels nearly meet dark trousers; her shoes are on his. Jack is centred between them, small but resolute. The threshold is both literal and emotional. To share is to allow space, to loosen one’s hold. The sharp green intensifies the moment. Jack stands illuminated, beginning to understand that affection is not possession but patience.

Jack and Jill widens the horizon. An Adirondack chair rests against a vast turquoise sky and distant sea. Beneath it, Jack and Jill settle into shade. The ground glows with bold yellow; shadows fall in deep ultramarine. Jill’s presence doubles the brightness in the composition, two notes of light set against blue and gold. They are companionable without symmetry. A red cushion above them adds a quiet warmth, binding rest to watchfulness. The setting feels expansive. The dogs are small in scale, yet colour grants their stillness weight and dignity.

In Stowaways, play becomes adventure. Boxes and cases stack precariously near a gangway; Jack and Jill peer from concealment. Stripes of red and green animate the luggage; beyond, a liner waits on enamelled water. The palette is assured — teal sea, cream cloud, polished timber. Their pale coats flicker between concealment and revelation. They hide in plain sight. Colour both disguises and declares them.

Arrival restores Toby to prominence. Night has fallen. The prow of a vast ship rises like a wall of burnished gold and shadow. Snow or sea-spray freckles the darkness. On the pier, Jack and Toby stand beside their luggage, gazing upward. The scale shifts; the world feels immense. Toby’s dark coat merges with the deep blues of evening, while Jack’s pale fur gathers what light remains. Against the enormity of ship and sky, their companionship steadies the moment.

Finally, in First Class, the journey turns reflective. A monumental image of a ship fills a brick wall; beneath it, Jack and Jill perch atop neatly stacked cases. The colours are controlled and resonant — deep marine blues, warm brick, disciplined greens. The dogs are elevated now, composed and assured. The composition echoes Travelling Companions, yet the emotional tone has evolved. Jack began under the seat, watching. He ends above the case, fully visible.

Across these six paintings, colour carries the narrative from anticipation to belonging. Posture shifts from shadowed observation to balanced presence. Toby remains the sentinel, the outward gaze. Jack moves from quiet witness to confident participant. Travel, in the end, is not measured by miles crossed, but by how companionship reshapes the space between light and shadow.