On Myth, Style And Younger Selves

Essay

In 2007, the process of depicting recognisable objects had become repetitive. Looking at figures on my walls stopped being enjoyable. I wanted to live with paintings that evoked a different set of emotions.

The difficult part of switching from figuration to abstraction was realising that I had to abandon figurative painting in order to gain access to another way of working. I was searching for a way to keep painting while making it more enjoyable to live with the consequences. When you paint non-figuratively, you work against your own imagination as much as anyone else's. That is a different kind of challenge. The work itself and writing about the methods behind it feel meaningful to me today. Each painting gives rise to new questions. I am not sure I would have felt the same had I remained a figurative painter.

The decisions I make while working are intuitive, but intuition is built on experience. When my children were young, I learned to play the guitar so I could sing to them at bedtime. When you play the guitar, moving from a C chord to a D chord is no longer a conscious decision. You don't think about where your fingers belong. You know the song. Your attention can shift to the feeling in your voice.

Painting is similar for me. I know how to paint because I have done it many times. I trust the foundation I have built. I no longer think about how to hold the spatula or apply the paint. I can focus on the gesture, the mark, the thickness of the paint, and, most importantly, on what it feels like to make it.

Playing music can transport you into a particular state of mind. I want painting to do the same. Because painting is a physical medium, something remains afterwards. The painting becomes a recording that can be experienced again and by others. Looking at a painting is of course different from making it, just as listening to a recording is different from performing a song live. I don't really want to be too aware of what I am doing. I want to experience the process, and that requires knowing how to paint, but not where the painting will take me.

During writing essays about my work I have become sceptical of the myth of the solitary artistic genius. It certainly doesn't feel inviting. I am not sure what purpose it serves. The myth of genius creates unnecessary distance. Personally, I prefer encountering a work before I encounter the mythology surrounding the artist. If I approach a painting believing it was made by a genius, I risk comparing myself to the artist rather than paying attention to the painting itself. As a painter, I am interested in experiencing a painting first and learning about the artist's biography second. I am not suggesting that everyone should become an artist, but I do believe that looking at art should be open to everyone.

Style can create a similar distance. It is useful for cataloguing works of art, but much less useful for experiencing them. Imagine walking through a museum categorising everything you see.

Abstract Expressionism.
Colour Field painting.
Concrete art.
Op Art.
Minimalism.

That exercise can almost be done from the doorway, before stepping into the gallery.

I would rather encourage people to trust their senses. To experience paintings at a human scale. To notice what happens when they stand in front of them, move around them, and allow themselves time to observe.

I believe that painting can be learned. I am one example of that. I wasn't born with the ability to paint, and I don't think I possess gifts that are fundamentally different from those of other people. If I could give my younger self one piece of advice, it would be a practical one: read a handbook on painting before picking up a brush. I wasted years discovering things that generations of painters had already learned and generously written down. Painting is a craft, and there is no shame in learning it from those who came before you.

I would also tell myself to start small. Art materials are expensive, and working too large before understanding the medium is often counterproductive. Most importantly, I would tell my younger self to find ways to keep going. Painting takes time. Learning how to make time an ally rather than an obstacle is one of the greatest skills a painter can acquire. If I had believed in the myth of the solitary artistic genius, I would have had no advice to give my younger self. The idea of genius suggests that nothing can be taught.