Welcome to Solawen Studio

Hi — I’m Lee Coxon, plasterer turned painter and founder of Solawen Studio.

I spent 3 years in the Army, then years on factory lines building cars at Nissan and making microchips at Atmel. Later, a long run on the trowel as a plasterer taught me level, edge, proportion—and the patience to perfect a surface. Those jobs trained my eye and hands; when I studied at the Edinburgh Atelier of Fine Art, that muscle-memory came with me. I still build pictures the slow way—layers, corrections, patience—so they last.

Available here now


  • Museum-grade fine-art prints & framed prints produced by theprintspace on archival papers.

  • Everyday Echoes (via Printful): mugs, coasters, mouse pads, caps, and t-shirts—useful pieces that carry a little of the art into daily life.

Be first to know when originals release. Get studio notes, early access, and a chance to win a small original study.Join the list.

  • Studio Shenanigans


    I take the craft seriously—just not myself.

    If I’m not lining up frames, I’m lining up bad jokes.

    Good work + a good mood = better paintings.

  • Play is part of the work



    If we can’t enjoy the making, we’re already a step behind.⇧Enter

    I build with curiosity and repetition: long sessions, quiet corrections, small wins.⇧Enter

    The rhythm is simple: show up, work slow, finish strong.⇧Enter

    Some days it clicks; most days it grinds.⇧Enter

    Either way, I leave the easel better than I arrived.⇧Enter

    The art is serious— the human making it gets to smile.



  • Powered by a ridiculous hat



    Does a purple hat improve brush control by 12%? Possibly.

    What really helps: layers, long sessions, and laughter.

    Paint slow. Smile often.

Why Solawen Studio exists


Solawen Studio is my way of building something that lasts—one stroke, one habit, one experiment at a time. I’m here to make work that brings a little wonder home, and to share the journey so others feel braver about starting their own. Sales keep the lights on; the mission is self-mastery, generous craft, and passing on what I learn.

Craft over clocks



I paint for the moment it feels right — not for how long it takes.
The work is slow on purpose: layers, corrections, patience until the picture breathes. That’s the promise of Solawen Studio: honest hours, lasting results.

From plaster to paint — and beyond


I’ve worn a few hats: three years in the Army, years on the Nissan line building cars, a stint making microchips at Atmel, then I retrained as a plasterer at 34. At 44 I went to the Edinburgh Atelier of Fine Art for two years to learn the craft the slow way.

Now at 53 I’m still a plasterer and a painter — and a student. The studio is my lab for cross-training skills: patience from plaster, precision from manufacturing, discipline from service.

Solawen Studio is where all of that becomes paintings made slowly, to last. Dedication first. Joy on purpose.

One stroke at a time


My process is repetition and patience—draw, correct, glaze, repeat—until the image clicks. The horses on this wall aren’t quick wins; they’re the result of quiet hours you never see. That’s the promise of Solawen Studio: work made slowly, to last.

Classical Training, Modern Heart


At the atelier, progress wasn’t a button — it was a ladder. Graphite first, then carbon and charcoal. From there to grisaille (just black and white), and finally a limited five-colour palette. No shortcuts, no skipping ahead: each study finished, critiqued, and redone until it clicked. Those hundreds of hours are in every painting I make today.

Dr Time — On Borrowed Seconds

  • Dr Time — On Borrowed Seconds


    A concept piece that arrived in one flash, then took 400–500 hours to earn.

    Multiple references woven into one image; layers and glazes to slow time down.

    About clocks, choices, and how the minutes we spend… spend us.

  • Quench — Quiet as a Thought


    A fox pauses to drink; the world holds its breath.

    Light on fur, ripple on water, hush over everything.

    A small moment, painted big enough to feel.

  • Nature’s Engine — Run


    Muscle as machinery, dust and light in flight.

    Motion studies, sketches, then paint to catch the wind.

    Power aimed forward—the joy of going.

Many skills, one purpose

I don’t practise multiple crafts to look busy; I do it to find out who I can become.

Piano, memory, training, and painting feed each other. The discipline from one sharpens the rest; the whole is the work.

Most days start before dawn with breath, cold, and movement, then 12–14 hours of purposeful work—at least three on the easel. Small bites, every day, compound.

I feel like I’m spiralling toward a crescendo I can’t yet name. Consistency is the compass. Each session—keys, digits, brushstrokes—pulls the thread a little further. I’m excited to wake up and keep learning.

Many paths. One direction.

Works in Progress

  • Shelter of Amber Fur


    A mother cradling her young, all patience and power. Slow, careful layers building the glow in their eyes and the weight of that embrace. Nearly finished; just a few whispers of fur and light to go.

  • Primal Hymn


    Mid-roar, caught between breath and thunder. I’m carving depth into the mane and pushing the light across the muzzle so the sound almost shakes the frame. Majesty first, polish next.

  • Rust in the Ferns


    Alert, curious, half-hidden—like a spark in tall grass. I’m refining the coat’s copper tones and the glassy shine in the eyes to nail that split-second stillness. Close to the finish line.