At what point can I call myself an artist?
Is it after completing my first painting or my second? Is there a magical number of paintings I must complete before I feel comfortable with the title? Or is it simply the act of picking up the brushes and returning to the studio day in and day out that would allow me to serve out this apprenticeship? I have learned that each of these paintings is a challenge and never gets any easier.
I set a goal of 100 paintings, a way to get me on this journey as an artist and a painter. My background in design and illustration adds another dimension to my work; not coming from a fine arts background has had its advantages, although I do wonder how different my career would have been had I gone through art school.
There is no quick path or shortcut to producing these paintings. People ask what the magical formula is, but there isn’t one. I work long hours, and I persevere with the task at hand. I methodically work my way through each stage from concept to completion.
I set day, week and monthly goals to ensure these tasks are realistic and completed on time.
Every concept requires a different set of skills, and I go through a relearning process for every painting. I’m constantly refining my technique and craft.
I have two distinct and different parts in creating a painting: head and hands. The first part is the creative (head). Concepts start in my sketchbook, either as scribbles or titles.
My first and only full-time job was as a visualiser for the Wellington-based advertising agency Ted Bates in 1990. The job involved
producing sketches in markers for presentation to clients. The renderings were quick and slick, and this was an excellent platform for me to learn how to get my ideas down on paper and not be too precious with the outcome.
I develop sketches further if I see potential, or I can bank them for a later date. I revisit old sketchbooks to recycle previous
compositions or add to an existing story.
I like to problem-solve compositions. However, I’ve never found working from a single photograph practical. While I appreciate other artists’ skills in working from single-source images, my method requires something else. I want to flatten or force the perspective and play with the light source and direction.
My most significant influence in picture making was discovering the classic “View Master” 1970s toy. The flattened layered images
intrigued me. The View-Master images changed by simply looking toward or away from a light source. Taking the concept of the
Viewmaster, I could build my ideas and create an entirely new image within an existing scene. I revisit compositions, adding and
deleting from the concept until I reach what I think is “The Story.”
Now, for the project’s second stage, “The hands,” which is painting, I enjoy the pace and process of painting. Whether grass or water, some parts of a picture require a significant investment in time, and I don’t shy away from this.
Detail is one of the cornerstones of my style.
