Throughout the years
I’ve looked upon masterpieces,
a great painting or drawing
created by a
legend,
filled with covetous desire.
In this age of readily available artistic imagery through social media
the paintings that my mind gravitates towards has changed from one or two ideas or images,
perhaps a Klimt here or a Degas there,
into a non stop onslaught of paintings that are ownerless and orphaned in the sea of an algorithm.
The feeling still persists, so much so that I have curbed my use of social media
If the covetous desire is still present among these headless paintings the question arises in me,
what is it that I covet?
Admiration?
Maybe.
At the most foundational level it comes down to possessing the ability to move others in the way that the painting has moved me.
in other words
Control.
in my youth outside of a clear artistic statement or intention the idea of painting was not just admiration—it was the desire to move others the way I’ve been moved.
Control over how my work is received. Control over how it makes the viewer feel. Control over a life that at times, and despite my best efforts, felt out of my control.
Escapism
To put my attention on what is outside of myself to not have to deal with what is inside
for if my aim and efforts were to control how people felt when looking upon a piece then I was able to forget how out of control I felt
Make no mistake painting for me isn’t about control.
The covetous feeling of seeing a technique, colour scheme, shape, technique is about control.
When painting I don’t want to dictate what someone feels—I want to create something that activates them.
It’s easy to borrow techniques, compositions, or styles, thinking they hold the answer. That they illustrate a clear path to my artistic growth, and at the end of the day, success.
But if I use them without a unique personal intention, I’m not truly painting—I’m securing a perceived outcome.
The real question isn’t how to paint a certain way,
but why I want to?
What does this painting bring up in me?
Why do I wish for the ability to duplicate that reaction in others?
The way I paint was present before any painting tool was taken up.
It was covered under the many guises I had adopted to feel safe and hidden for fear of being outcast, shamed or ridiculed
Style isn’t something I take or acquire—it’s something that
emerges.
Style is me baring my soul to the world
Style is the shape of my honesty.
Painting is the tool I use to explore my truth
When I stop trying to control, when I paint from the place where my heart resides, the work breathes—
“I”
breathe
At times fearful shallow breaths
At others
deep and courageous
but at the end of the day
It is