Chromamania and transmogrification

HealingSpacerI want these new paintings to be part of me. My flesh and blood. I want to give birth to them in pain and ecstasy. I want to ooze fluids on the canvas, drip down sweat and bleed paint. I want them to be miraculously personal and horribly revealing. And impenetrable nightmares and dark revelations. A salvation of colours and a paradise of smeared lines. I want them to be me and more.
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I am not a brand

JackdawSpacer(This text was first published as an article in the Sept/Oct 2016 issue of the Jackdaw Magazine in the Easel Words section)

I recently received some thought-provoking feedback on my paintings from a well-known British collector. What stuck in my mind were the following words: ‘’You’ve settled on a style but with a pretty varied subject matter. Is it too varied these days if you are building ‘your personal brand’? That’s a tricky one and I leave it with you!’’
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I immediately bristled at being reminded of my ‘personal brand’. Do I think about my ‘personal brand’ when I am covered in oil and trying to wrestle a composition into submission? No I don’t. I am lost in what I am creating with no intention of ever censoring myself because someone might choke on the fact that that painting might have a slightly different narrative than the last one.
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I have noticed that gallery owners, when asked how they select artists to show, often state that ‘consistency’ is what they look for. Consistent in term of regular work production and style, but also in the sense that the work should be instantly recognizable and attributable to the artist. This of course makes it easier to sell and explain.
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Some of my subject matters sell better than others. The ‘Bad animals’ have proved popular. Do I only want to only paint pimp-like canines and sleazy felines for the rest of my life? Of course I don’t. That would take the spontaneity and experimentation out of the act of painting and the work itself would become very stale, very quickly.
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People also seem to like my portraits of outsiders, revellers and fallen women on the ‘verge of a nervous breakdown’. Again, if I painted those only, I would by now probably be a nervous wreck myself and checking my way into the poor artist equivalent of the Priory. I often leave those paintings to go back to creating my silly animals and learn to smile again.
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There is something inherently selfish and ego-driven about art-making anyway. The unshakable belief that you have something interesting to say and that someone will want to hear or/and see it. Should I start worrying only about pleasing an audience and following a formula, I fear I will end up pleasing no one and boring myself rigid in the process.
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But I also understand the collector’s points. In a social media driven world we all are clamouring for space and attention. A neat visual package and recognizable brand helps people understand who we are and what we have to say. I am aware of the pleasure and necessity to sell out work and achieve commercial success. Making a living out of art allows me to keep producing work and keeps me ‘sane’. And maybe that is my ‘brand’, the finger raised at nay-sayers, the slight anarchical view but above all the humour (I hope), the attention-seeking and fragility and maybe the ‘honesty’ to say that I certainly don’t have all the answers.