About me and the paintings.

One of the hardest lessons to learn, (at least for me) regarding the paintings I produce, has been to remember… I paint for myself.

No-one else. ME.

I don’t mean that in a selfish way.

Let’s face it. I’d go mad if I tried to paint for the viewer. If I tried to second guess what it was people wanted, I’d be bonkers in a week and as for painting to match some one’s interior decor, that would be the end of life as we know it.

Don’t get me wrong. If you want a forest scene? A seascape? Fine. Even a portrait, that’s OK by me. Thing is. You would have to take what you are given. I’ll take a commission any day, but you take what my head produces and at most times that is, (I’m glad to say), unpredictable.

To put it simply, what I am looking for is a connection.

I just want you to see my painting and click…something happens. You find meaning. A reminder. A moment. Something from the past. Something for the future. Above all, I want my work to be useful. Like a tool for the imagination. Something good…and lasting. Maybe even changing. Imagine that a work produced by me that fulfills different needs at different times. Wow.

Anyway…before I get carried away…

If I were to say that there is some kind of mysterious process about how and why I paint, then I’d be lying. To be honest I am totally at the mercy of whatever pops into my head. There seems to be no rhyme or reason or even anything that can be described as a theme to my work, at least as far as I can tell. That is not to say I make no connections at all, just maybe not the usual ones…

There is one thing, however.

In the mad diversity of my work, I do recognise and see glimpses of my past. I do see the confusion, the unanswered questions and the consequences of for instance, being a mixed-race man.

I also feel the intensity that the many, many types of different employment I have experienced coming through. The toilet cleaner, the lorry driver and the Priest in the Church of England have all left their mark and in some bizarre way continue to do so.

Perhaps more than anything, I note in my work a sense of confusion, frustration even anger. Never complete satisfaction. But then, who does?

I’m just thankful that I feel enough to put paint to paper.

Anyway…

Sometimes identified as an OUTSIDER artist or a NAIVE artist I don’t much care.