For me, to be an artist is the exquisite ability to use colours to express myself through art. That’s why I am an artist, the colours reflecting every mood and every changing emotion; the fluidity resonating within me. Every painting leads to a place where I am me, and that can never change, ever.
The moment the painting is done I realize that I’m consciously trying to savour the feeling, which prompts me to identify it, pick it apart and put it in context, where it will slowly dissolve until it’s little more than an aftertaste, and then it has a life of its own, having taken some part of me along a fantastic journey.
For me a painting is a relationship or a friendship which I thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite whose smouldering embers still have the power to start a forest fire.
Although I reflect on each process and layer with the sharpness of a mirror, the true picture of how it comes out somehow reaches me softened and distorted, each painting giving me a plethora of memories with one dominant emotion. That is why I look at every painting in terms of how it makes me feel rather than how I look at it.
At the end of a painting, having reached a moment when a conversation becomes real and alive, there is a spark of trust that shorts out the delicate circuits that are insulated under layers of emotions, and it is that point of being grounded, that removes the static emotional charge built up through decades of friction with the world.
Life is only a reflective memory of what we allow ourselves to see.