When I paint I can very often cycle through a love-hate relationship as the piece develops. Emotions like these are at the very core of why we create but not necessarily the reasons why we do it. If I start out on a piece I always have a mental image of what I want it to look like, however, with this painting what I wanted to paint and what actually came out are as different as can be. It’s true to say that my original plans became diluted as I went off on a tangent and let something else take control.
I’m actually very glad really as what was being created at the time was not something I would have wanted to put on my walls! It’s odd when things like this happen during a painting session – one minute you love what you have and the next it’s turned to hate, often due to the tiniest of changes that should never have been done…or should they?
Well, here lies the naked truth about abstracts. At what point does something from within become something worth looking at? Is there ever a point at which an artist can sit back and feel that a piece is complete? I think there is, but it doesn’t happen that often. Most of my paintings are based on moments of time strung together, often in one continuous chain. The question of whether another layer of paint or colour should be applied is one that can never be answered because there is something that tells you to do it – even when you know you shouldn’t.
Sometimes the hardest part of painting is knowing when to stop.
Thankfully that point came easily with this painting, despite some complex layering, intricate drag and stroke work and a lot of time spent blending a number of base primary colours together on the actual canvas to get the subtlety of tones you see in the picture to the left.
I used a combination of enamel gloss, acrylic and oil paints on this piece which, three days after painting it, is still drying! I am told that this kind of mass-loading of paint is something that people identify with my style of application.
I like that.
Texture and form add another dimension to the painting that a thin layer of paint can never give.
Gray Pianos Flying measures
101cm x 76cm x 38mm (deep).
Commission slots are available if you would like a piece painted similar to this one or you have a space that needs something a little out of the ordinary
