Category: Weekly Feature

I think this painting has a lot of vibrating colour – sometimes it almost gives me a headache and other times I’m completely attracted to it’s energy. In choosing the palette, I was thinking about utilising complimentary colours, and my palette had to be cleaned off several times during the painting process to prevent the colours getting too muddy. My palette consisted of Titanium White, Zinc White, Williamsburg Indian Yellow, Michael Harding Yellow Lake Deep, Daler Rowney Crimson Alizarin, Gamblin Radiant Green, Gamblin Radiant Turquoise, Isaro Prussian Blue and Sennelier Indigo.

I thought it would be interesting to use the palette of this painting as the inspiration to do the first few Albers: Interaction of Colour exercises. I didn’t get the exact shades unfortunately, but quite close. The optical illusions of the three layouts show how a colour is affected by its surrounding. In each, the center colour (red/mint/red) is the same in the top and bottom half, but the colour that abuts affects hue.

Sidebar: I wonder if anyone has tried to match hex colour codes to specific paints? I know that artist paint pigments have a specific coding system that doesn’t relate to the hex system. The Pantone system is used for house paints, fabrics, and other commercial applications, and can be translated into hex codes fairly well, but I have had occasions where I would like to use my specific oil paint colours, for example, my business cards and now I’d like to play with my specific colours in the Interaction of Colours app. I have in the past used the tools available at DIY shops that allow you to point scan a sample and match specific wall paint colours, but I haven’t seen the same facility available here in Lisbon.

I’m thinking about how to apply this kind of colour illusion to my paintings. I particularly like the lavender and mint effect where the edges seem to blend and shift (or do I need a new glasses prescription?). It has crossed my mind to make an abstract painting consisting only of shades of middle greys. I imagine it would have an effect, where your eyes aren’t able to focus on the edges up close, and the colours almost merge together from far away. What then happens to the painting itself? Does it end up melting into sea of greys? And then what happens when it is placed next to the vibrating colours of Almost Home: Vistas de Baixo? Perhaps these thoughts will find their way into my next paintings…

For this year’s Strada Challenge, I decided to paint my parent’s house in Singapore. There’s a long story behind the decision, which I’m working on as part of my artist statement for the project. For this post I’ll stick with writing about my process.

The biggest challenge was that technically it would be a fairly large jump for me to go from painting single subjects to complex scenes. I suspected that finishing a painting a day would be a stretch for me so I allowed for the possibility that it would most likely be a painting over two or three days.

Painting with a short time limit means that I have to adjust my expectations. I had to remind myself constantly that the aim of the challenge is to paint everyday. One of the tricks I use is to paint on paper rather than canvas to reduce the preciousness I might feel about how the final painting turns out. I use Canson XL Oil and Acrylic paper as it has a nice smooth finish for crisp drawing and is acid-free to increase the lifespan of the works. I’m also trying out water-soluble oil paints to avoid using turpentine in the house.

When I was thinking about the project originally, I thought there would be plenty of variation within the architectural details to be able to paint at least one scene a day. I soon realised that my parent’s personal affects could not be separated from the space that is their home, and my attention shifted to portraying objects within the space. To me, this project is about my spending time with the house and its contents – and of course with my parents.

I write this post with only a few days left of the challenge, so am very pleased that it looks like I’ll make it to the end. There were a few hiccups and tough days due to battling a chest infection, Singapore’s rainy season, and mosquitoes, but the last few days are flying by.

See the full Mum’s House, 2024 series on my website after the 31st January.

Last January I managed to complete 31 paintings for the Strada 31-day Challenge. The key to my success was my focus on a single object each day. I picked the theme of “bags”, hoping that it would help reduce that classic artistic anxiety of choosing a subject.

Bags can say a lot about us: size reflects the number of things we need/choose to carry with us; they can be fashion accessories or practical; they can portray one as professional, care-free, independent or confident. As I began to dig out my bags from storage, I noticed that mine were predominantly utilitarian and most were chosen for specific purposes.

I really liked the idea of telling the story of how I came to own each bag, however it quickly became clear that would over-complicate the painting challenge by adding in the extra (time- consuming) element of writing. One of these days I’ll get around to writing those stories.

The first few paintings were hard fought but, pleasingly, I quickly settled into the discipline of painting every morning. This success was largely due to the predetermined, single subject matter. I also discovered that listening to philosophy lectures were a great antidote to the diversionary tactics of my internal critic and thus I found my flow and discovered by the end that I actually thoroughly enjoyed painting (most) bags! The stilted, careful, initial drawings eventually loosened into thicker brushwork and suggestive gestures.

On day 26, as I assessed my remaining bags, I realised I had miscounted and was one short. So began a frantic search through our storage for an old bag I remembered once having. Unable to find it, on the morning of the 31st January I made the decision to paint a simple grocery shopping bag – a lucky decision as it has become my favourite painting of the series.

To me, this final piece is the most painterly work of the series: the impasto paint application and level of abstraction achieves realism through the viewer’s interaction with it. By this I mean that up close you see a series of lines and blobs of paint but from far away the brain engages its power of recognition to fill in the blanks and understand what it is looking at. It was a very satisfying culmination of the 31 paintings in 31 days and the discipline and practice that it invoked.

The Art in Function: 31/31 Bags in January, 2023 is available for sale through my website and can be viewed at Atelier do Tijolo.

The global lockdown of 2021 was a perfect opportunity to focus on disciplined practice. Lockdown meant less distractions and having just moved from the UK to Portugal I was ready to start something new. I decided to embark on a project to create 100 paintings. I thought the project would be a good opportunity to explore what it means to have a ‘visual language’.

Having recently discovered Henry Ward’s Shed Paintings I imagined that being unconstrained like this, I would unleash a creative force inside me. Although I did indeed initially feel free, I soon discovered that too much freedom was sometimes overwhelming.

Although project beginnings are exciting, the first challenge is always facing a blank page. Sitting in silence, staring at a blank page, in my equally empty studio I just listened to what was happening in my brain. There was an internal battle between a calm, almost inert force that could sit and wait, and an impatient, impulsive energy that just wanted to burst onto the canvas: part of me wanted order, a systematic approach and another part wanted an experimental, disorganised start. All were subject to my internal critic. These feuding ideas became paralysing, so I began listening to art podcasts to occupy my brain so that my hands could concentrate on painting.

Listening to podcasts worked but I didn’t particularly like the final images I was producing. The voice of my doubtful internal critic grew louder and, once again, the blank page began to feel daunting. Feeling there were too many options, I tried to instigate ‘rules’ such as; 100 paintings in 100 days, no external inspirations, explore the same thing for seven days, let the brushes and paint guide you, only use one tool for an entire painting, choose one colour and make any mark, start with a background, sit still until the inspiration comes, plan ahead. Some of the rules solved problems, others encouraged discipline. But all of them were met with a new and stronger trait: a rebel of all rules, which returned me to the beginning stage of total freedom, and the cycle of my natural process began again.

This project taught me how to recognise and use my various traits to my own artistic advantage. Some are still difficult to manage but the phrase ‘trust the process’ has become a mantra that reminds me that art practice is not just about the final product: its about the internal, psychological struggle that we encounter and have to overcome as part of the process.

From Nothing I-C, 2021 is available for sale through my website and can be viewed at Atelier do Tijolo.

Happy new year!

This month, I thought I would explore what it means to have and what comprises my particular art practice. I hope to better define and to discover more insight into how I think and approach my work.

I started calling myself a painter/artist, in a way, to announce to the world that I was committing to a life of art practice. This decision was not taken lightly – not much different to marriage. To me, it was a proclamation of my commitment to create, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.

I have heard many would-be artists express a particular sentiment: that they did not or could not make the time for their artmaking, or that their art making was secondary to other priorities, usually expressed with a hint of guilt or shame. I too have expressed this sentiment in the past, but since making the firm commitment to being an artist, my priorities have changed: partly due to the commitment itself but also because at the same time I began to use the term ‘art practice’ in reference to my art making.

For me, ‘art practice’ indicates an ongoing, unresolved process, which opened up the way I thought about art. As a child, ‘practice’ was the antithesis of ‘fun’. I wanted to be dedicated and disciplined but repetition was boring. I still struggle with repetition but I recognise the value of these qualities.

In earlier years, I have tried to do a sketch a day, create routines to encourage habits, and various other techniques that are purported to be the habits of ‘successful people’. I came to realise that this would be a lifelong process for me. In September 2022, I spontaneously decided to enter the Strada Challenge to paint everyday for the month. I only manage nine paintings that month, due to a lack of forward planning. However, I thoroughly enjoyed doing the paintings and decided to try again in January 2023.

This particular painting was of note to me because I became very aware that I was editing possible subjects according to my perceived ability. I really wanted to paint the shiny surface but I didn’t think I could, so I kept teetering on the decision. When I finally settled on it, although a challenge, I was quite happy with the result. In some ways this changed my art practice. I’ve become more aware of when my anxieties can affect my work and I try to face up to the challenge.

Still Life: Making lunch, 2022 is available, as a fine art print, for sale through my website and can be viewed at Atelier do Tijolo.

Being away from my studio usually makes me feel a little anxious. I think it’s because I become disconnected from my work and know it will be a challenge reconnecting again. It’s a complicated relationship: on the one hand, breaks away from work bring new ideas, fresh perspectives, and renewed energy but on the other hand existing ideas are forgotten, flow is interrupted, and diversions occur. It makes this last post of the year all the more difficult to write.

I thought I’d try to use this blog format to bridge the gap by continuing to write about my process, a refresher of sorts for myself, as I gear up for my annual a-painting-a-day project for the January 2024 Strada Challenge. I use the challenge as an opportunity for me to reset – like a painting retreat – where I fully immerse myself in painting practice for the whole month. I more or less wake up, caffeinate, paint, eat, caffeinate, paint, eat, sleep, and repeat for the entire month. Maybe squeezing in some exercise in between painting. It’s a fairly repetitive daily existence that tests my discipline, resolve, and often the muscles in my right shoulder and arm!

Last year, I chose the theme Art in Function: 31 Bags in January which helped to eliminate the most finicky stage of painting for me: choosing a subject. This year I’m aiming high by painting interiors, not a subject I’m comfortable with, which has left me nervous and feeling a need to have backup options to ensure a successful month of painting. I’ll tell you more about the idea(s) next week once the project is under way.

For now, more about painting strategies. A Memento, 2018, is an example of a subject where the strategy helped me to approach a painting that I found difficult. The issues that I faced with this subject were foreshortening and monochrome colour under dramatic lighting. The three strategies that I used to combat these challenges were: a) measure, draw, and measure again, b) create a working values sketch with notes, and c) use a limited palette and pre-mix warm and cool values before starting. These simple strategies that worked well for A Memento, 2018 should come in handy next month as I battle perspective and monochrome colour again.

In the five years since, I’ve forgotten some of what these notes mean, but basically (from left to right) I started with a value scale to compare with my subject, then a value sketch as a guide with the value numbers, and a value relationship number chart for how I would represent the values in my painting.

If you’d like to follow my daily progress during the January Strada challenge, I’ll be posting process photos and videos on Instagram.

A Memento, 2018 is available for sale through my website and can be viewed at Atelier do Tijolo.

I remember distinctly when I painted this as being particularly nerve wracking. I was using a photograph that didn’t have the fidelity of a live subject and I was often left to fill in the blanks where I couldn’t see. Additionally, to paint something that my brain knew was vast and sprawling in such a comparatively tiny space felt restrictive. What I remember most was having to learn to let go of my expectations and to trust in the process: block in the shadows, fill in the mid-tones, focus on the values, and work my way to the highlights. Oh, and squint, squint, squint (more about this next week).

I was still in ‘discipline training’ (as I like to call it) at this stage of my art practice. I had returned home from a six week intensive drawing and painting course in Florence and was determined to keep up the daily routine of painting that I had begun. This Yosemite Study is where I learned that this disciplined approach could be relied on to get me through any anxiety I had when facing a blank canvas, and that getting started was half the battle won. It continues to be an approach that works for me.

Where I got excited about this painting is when I had to make things up – those parts that I couldn’t see in the photograph. I had a flat base painting of values using the approach that I had learned, but the painting didn’t come alive until I began to add my own creative solutions and final flourishes. It was interesting that the base painting took several hours of agonising over, but the final touches came in a fast flurry of nervous, spontaneous and uncalculated risks that only lasted about 15-20 minutes.

Although I have moved away from relying on this specific approach for every painting, I still come back to it when I’m feeling stuck or lacking in discipline. It is an approach that has served many generations of painters well. It is why, even though I no longer use it all the time, I have made a decision to return to it at the beginning of each new year and spend time practising it with unfamiliar subjects. It is the core of my art practice – no matter how far I may seem to veer away, it will always be there to guide and keep me on track.

California Burning: Yosemite Study, 2019 is available for sale through my website and can be viewed at Atelier do Tijolo.

I love that painting forces one to slow down to really observe the details of the world that we live in. I often see things during my everyday life that finds their way into my studio as potential subjects, like this cabbage leaf. Without a robust, daily sketching practice I, rather, tend to photograph and save them for a later date. Though wrestling my brain into disciplined practice still feels like a necessary coercion, I have found some strategies to help me settle into my painting process.

Choosing a subject is my first battle. If I win this, things are on the up and up. Sometimes, having subjects with a natural expiration date helps. For example, this cabbage leaf sat in my studio waiting to be painted for at least a week. It wasn’t until it began to wilt that I was driven to finally paint it.

A strategy I find useful is using the same approach every time I begin observational studies. This ritualistic approach seems to focus my mind to the task, like a trigger for the process ahead. I try to have my next subject and easel setup the day before, so that I can begin as soon as I arrive the following morning. On the day of painting, I clean my tools, choose my colours and lay them on my clean palette. It’s akin to washing my face, brushing my teeth and choosing what I’ll be wearing that day.

Then, with cup of tea in hand, I evaluate my subject and plan how to approach the painting. I think of this as my meditation stage: My brain storms initial thoughts and feelings which I have to let pass and resist acting upon. Gradually, as they disperse an urge develops to pick up my paintbrush. This feeling grows and develops, often comprising solutions to challenges that I have foreseen, and then, it’s time to begin.

Cauliflower Leaf, 2022, is available for sale through my website and can be viewed at Atelier do Tijolo.