Christmas In Montmartre, pastel,
20 x 25 in.

My overriding passion when I first started painting was the landscape. It was a love of the land that led me to painting more than a love for art. I needed to express the strength of my feeling, and painting seemed the best way to do it. It is not the only way—there is poetry, music, literature. All or any of these would do, if I ever lost my sight, say. As long as there is a means to express, that is what matters, but I went for painting because I believe that has the most to offer. With painting you can tell a story, create or capture an emotion, question, explain, analyse—all in a single statement. I genuinely believe that the potential of line, form, tone, and colour is limitless as a language of both emotion and logic. With proper use, this language can talk to all, and at all levels.

When I paint now, my concern is still to reflect what is around me, and how it affects me. The passion for the landscape is still there, but over the years I have also become passionate about how art has encouraged that. In trying to understand how to reflect what I feel through colour, I have learnt that I can also use colour to stimulate those feelings in others, that in fact, the abstract qualities of colour and form are probably more important in a composition than the subject matter that originally inspired it. My purpose more and more is to paint in this objective way, to allow colour and form to work as melody and tone in music. Most of the work is still noticeably landscape, as is our world around us, but that is just a starting point. Rather than the landscape, it is the painting that matters. The landscape doesn’t need me to champion it. As an artist, my duty is to create something new, that bit more than what we see and feel day to day.

More than anything, each finished painting is a reflection of that surge of emotion that created it. That is what you are seeing, and that is what I hope others will identify with. Any subject matter is secondary, for we all have different experiences of the world, our own memories of specific places or objects or people.

To this end, I tend to work mostly in the studio. I need reference work, such as sketches and photos, but just to get me going. Mostly I try and work from memory, using what my mind has distilled over time into something essential. Of course, once started, the painting will start talking back to me, and any forethought is usually gone. All composition is a balancing act of form, tone, colour, meaning. Every mark made has to be balanced, and this is how I work, never on just one part of the painting. A mark here must immediately be balanced with another there, and so on. This I need to do quickly, jumping all over the work as I bring it to life.

It is why I work more and more with pastel, because I need to work with the emotions as they happen, and that doesn’t allow me time to be squeezing paint out of tubes or waiting for things to dry. All through this process I will have my original subject matter in mind, although that may change as the painting throws up unexpected ideas. This is fine, for we must follow our hearts. I find the only time I need to refer back to sketches or photos is for architectural correctness, and this is sometimes necessary, but usually only if painting somewhere recognisable. Even then I would try and avoid it, for any such distraction impairs the essential creative flow.

More than anything, each finished painting is a reflection of that surge of emotion that created it. That is what you are seeing, and that is what I hope others will identify with. Any subject matter is secondary, for we all have different experiences of the world, our own memories of specific places or objects or people. It would be arrogant of me to suggest that others should want to see these things my way, but I do believe we can share things on a higher, emotional, rather than literal, level. The painting’s composition, its use of shape and line and colour, along with a hint of story, will suggest different things to different people, but I am looking for something universal. As Delacroix said, “The true thinking that is common to all men.”

See more artwork and a demo below!

San Giorgio, acrylic, 52 x 48 in.

click here to enlarge the painting

Street Musicians, Arles, pastel,
18 x 23 in.

Le Consult Montmartre, pastel,
22 x 28 in.

click here to enlarge the painting

Winter Night Grand Canal, pastel, 30 x 32 in.

Step 3

The basic composition is now sketched, and it is time to start bringing the painting to life. Although I am constantly aware of the subject of the painting, I am equally concerned with its abstract qualities. Painting is all about the two-dimensional and, to this end, we often need to counteract the illusion of perspective, both linear and tonal. With landscape painting, I often do this by ensuring that the more distant top half of the picture is as strong or stronger than the nearer lower half. By making the walls of the buildings bright and giving less weight to the foreground, I maintain that essential balance of composition.

Step 4

Finally, I can slowly enhance the sense of colour. Because Sunlight In A Paris Square is defined by strong tonal contrast, I do this sparingly. Too much colour at this stage would simply over egg the pudding. To maintain balance I prefer to work with the three primaries. The secondary greens, purples or oranges are kept to a minimum and must always be an enhancement to an overriding primary. Colour also creates the illusion of perspective, so I can use the red awning to bring forward the building on the right and give that side of the painting added weight. In all cases, any colour I use is normally reflected in other parts of the painting surface, sometimes with the slightest of touches. The continual attention to abstract values should normally ensure a successful painting.