A Visit with Nic
Driving to meet artist Nic Fiddian Green, I find myself in a deeply rural landscape that feels more like Southern Gloucestershire than Surrey. The quiet hills are a world away from Marble Arch, where Nic’s monumental 35-foot sculpture, Horse to Water, stands serene amidst the bustling city.
As I navigate the winding roads, I pass donkeys and sleek hunters clad in exercise sheets, eventually arriving at Fiddian Green’s current home. Nic and his family recently moved here after narrowly escaping a house fire in their barn last May, thanks to a vigilant fireman during a previous visit. Now, they are temporarily residing with Henrietta’s parents, but you wouldn’t know it from the house—its hall is lined with an array of wellies, and a sign on the door reads, “All You Need Is Love.”
Upon arrival, I find Nic working on charcoal sketches of the Slave Gate in Marrakech, a personal sabbatical project. It’s immediately apparent that the creator of these charcoals is the same artist behind Horse to Water.
Nic was born in Ireland, and his artistic potential was recognized early—at just seven years old, he was caught doodling a heron on the kitchen table. With no other artists in the family, he has always been curious about the source of his talents. Recently, he even tracked down a distant relative who is an architect. As a teenager, he made the decision to pursue art seriously, relocating to England to attend the Chelsea School of Art.
Waving a piece of charcoal at an 8-foot drawing of Horse to Water on one side of the room and a Moroccan scene on the other, he describes his three horses. This collection represents 30 years of work: a Greek horse’s head, noble and battle-ready; a Spanish horse, curved and poised to raise its knees; and, finally, Horse to Water, an immensely moving piece defined by its majesty and stillness.
I’m here to create an overcoat for Nic—one that will connect him with nature as he treks through the marshes, hills, and valleys of England. This coat will have storm flaps that catch the wind and pockets spacious enough to hold sketchbooks, charcoal, and apples.
It turns out we are both fans of tweed. Nic retrieves an elegant coat made for his wife from a soft light brown tweed sourced from the Islay Woollen Mill. He shows me an array of tweed jackets and waistcoats, including his first adult coat, crafted for him during his student days at Chelsea by Eddie from Redwood and Feller on Rochester Row. Back then, Nic traded Eddie a horse’s head for this remarkable coat—though I can’t help but think it would take more than one great coat for such a swap today. We discuss how the coat should feel: a safe haven during a storm atop a hill. Together, we choose a Harris tweed in soft browns. Nic is such a devotee of tweed that he arrives with his own swatches from a mill on the Isle of Mull.
I follow Nic in his Land Rover to his studio: a barn perched high on the hills, isolated from the world. Outside, a mound of discarded works creates a sort of giant’s wasteland, with large hands made of plaster—a leftover from a project for the Royal Marsden—blocking my path.
We sip warming black coffee from a mug that was once an ashtray and before that, a brush pot, poured from a plaster-splattered kettle. Nic opens up about the leukemia he contracted in 2006 and how, after three years of recovery, 2010 became a pivotal year for him. That year, he installed three monumental horses at Marble Arch, Ascot Racecourse, and on the Trundle Hill overlooking Goodwood Racecourse, as well as his first running water and windows in his abandoned studio.
Surrounded by horses’ heads in various stages of copper, plaster, and clay, I catch sight of a prototype pig’s head that appears somewhat bemused by the scene. Ahead of me is the beginning of a whole horse, which Nic tells me has been abandoned; for him, it’s all about the head.
He reveals that he is happiest at 5 a.m., watching the sunrise in silence. His cold studio reflects a sort of nonchalant minimalism; every object has been placed with an artist’s eye. Found and discarded items are propped and arranged with care, and pots with warning signs for creating green patina on his finished bronzes are stacked in ordered chaos. He points to a Horse to Water maquette that may be commissioned to stand at the entrance of a bank in China. It’s clear that Nic’s works are landmarks—Ros Packer and her family purchased the majestic and powerful Greek Horse, 36 feet high and titled I Will Search Beyond for a Distant Land, to serve as a memorial beside her late husband’s grave.
Back in my own studio, using Nic’s first overcoat for guidance, I start sketching details to bring his personality and feelings for this piece to life. As I lay the overcoat on my cutting table, three acorns and a piece of string tumble out of a pocket. Against the tweed, they form a perfectly symbolic still life of my time with Nic. As a creator myself, it is an enormous privilege to craft a piece for the artist who believes that “you don’t see unless you look.” Perhaps I’ll add a small, special pocket for the acorns he might find along his journey.
In His Own Words
1. Brief daily routine:
5 a.m. start, a bowl of porridge with cream and sugar. Then to the studio, one mile from home, working facing east, gazing through the window across the fields to witness the dawn. In silence, I work until dark, sometimes stopping for lunch, then returning home for supper.
2. Description of view from studio:
On top of a windswept hill, my studio is a redundant sheep-shearing shed—bleak and agricultural. It faces south and east, overlooking arable farmland that stretches to a distant wood, which disappears down the hill into the valley. It’s a silent place, filled only with the sounds of birds.
3. Do you ride? How often? Name of horse:
I ride George on weekends with my wife and children—it’s always exhilarating and uplifting.
4. Favorite sporting event, horse-related:
Goodwood’s late summer evening race meetings, where I gaze out across the South Downs in the evening light, watching long shadows stretch across the landscape and looking south toward the Solent and out to sea, while also taking in the fields of England to the north.
5. Do you feel you have perfected the horse’s form?
No, no way—I have not perfected it (nor will I ever), but perhaps I’m getting closer.
6. Proudest moment:
The birth of my first child.
7. What’s next?
The Marwari Horse in India…and another step on the journey.
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The Gentleman magazine and Press
From the Archive an Evening with Paul Smith: A True Man of Brand
I have included this because It was after hearing Sir Paul speak I pitched for my little tiny company to have 2 directors. Lucky for me something went right, and I thank Sir Paul for handing on an atom of energy that I could muster to a good effect.
The anticipation of hearing Paul Smith speak had been bubbling within me for days, and in my eagerness, I misread the invitation and arrived an hour early. This happy accident only heightened my excitement for the insights that the “true man of brand” was about to share.
As I settled into the corporate surroundings of the RBS press room, surrounded by approximately a hundred other creative entrepreneurs, Paul bounded in, overflowing with energy and creativity, hopping from leg to leg like a child on Christmas morning. His enthusiasm was palpable, igniting the room and setting the stage for an inspiring evening.
Where I Work
We began with a glimpse into his world, as images of his office flashed across the screen. The space was a sprawling loft, filled to the rafters with towering bookshelves that housed an impressive 10,000 hardback books. Among the shelves were whimsical children’s toys—because, as he quipped, “they are the hardest to please”—and piles of beautifully wrapped gifts from Japanese fans. Paul described this creative haven as reminiscent of James Bond’s Q lab, a place brimming with inspiration drawn from the delightful contrast of prints and textures.
Words of Wisdom
With a few wise words, he quoted Edward de Bono: “The job changes you.” This resonated deeply with the room. Paul emphasized the importance of balance, illustrating it with a playful demonstration—standing side on with one hand held high and the other low. “The higher hand represents the fun stuff,” he explained, referencing the vibrant red suits worn by Tinie Tempah, while the lower hand represented the classic navy and black that have dominated advertising since the ’80s.
Quality is a passion for Smith, and he spoke passionately about the value of detail as a key differentiator. “Look and see,” he urged, a lesson imparted by his beloved wife, Pauline. He shared snippets of his entrepreneurial philosophy: “You can’t do without doing,” prompting nods of agreement from the audience, and “Do what is right, not what is easy,” which elicited a more subdued yet thoughtful response.
Imagery and Inspiration
As the presentation progressed, we were treated to stunning visuals. A beach hut transformed in Paul’s eye into a cozy jumper, and a photograph taken in haste from a taxi became a striking jacket lining. Paul’s keen eye for photography is evident, and like the great Karl Lagerfeld, he captures all his campaign shoots himself, citing Alexey Brodovitch as a mentor.
Images of Smith’s shops from around the globe filled the screen, accompanied by the mantra “Think global, act local.” From the elegant white mansion on Westbourne Grove to the futuristic pink spaceship that houses his LA store, the diversity of his spaces reflected his creative spirit.
As the event drew to a close, I found myself swept up in the infectious joy that permeated the room. We filed out to network, whispering among ourselves, “He’s amazing!” The insights and inspiration that Paul Smith imparted were a reminder of the power of creativity and the importance of staying true to one’s vision.
In a world that often prioritizes the mundane, Paul Smith is a beacon of vibrant possibility, reminding us all to look, see, and, most importantly, to have fun in the process.
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A curious collection of tweed.
The view from Nic's studio.
Finishing a piece.
