Chris Rigby

Whilst doing Illustration at Falmouth School of Art, I developed an interest in the techniques of the old masters; I realised this was the foundation for much of what I was taught in illustration. Through the Old Masters I sought what I saw as the source.

My interest quickly went through the ages to (not so old) masters such as Cezanne. In his work I saw directness, honesty. 'You know where you stand with Cezanne' was always my feeling. Previously, Cezanne (and others even easier to access) had been something of an enigma to me but once I got it, once I 'got' Cezanne, it was like having a conjurers trick revealed to me. The thing is, the only person hiding the trick from me, was myself, there was no trick. Perhaps it's because we are brought up in a world reliant on deception, perhaps self-deception is all part of the human psyche, it feels like life is a process of pulling the scales from ones eyes, but Cezanne was pulling no punches. He laid it all out before me and all I had to do was open my eyes and let it in. In a nutshell that is my whole thing, opening my eyes - keeping my eyes and soul open to the endless possibility.

That is how great art should be, much art hides a lack of substance behind endless layers of obscurity. Art should feel necessary; it should be bourn of a need to create. Cezanne used paint to ask questions of the world, to ask questions of life, and the paintings are results of that enquiry.

As I see in Cezanne, the urge to paint for me is driven by a sense of enquiry into the nature of things, a quest for self-knowledge. Through paint I explore the world of familiar things, the urge to go direct to the source. Through direct observation I question my perceptions; things are rarely what you perceive them to be. It is like a voyage of discovery or rather self-discovery, sometimes I feel like an archaeologist exposing my own ancient being from the soil; I am pulling myself from the wreckage. One of the most important ingredients in art, in life, is honesty. Child-painting is great because they haven't yet learned to be guarded, what they do doesn't try to be anything it isn't. Of course, if you have reached the stage where you know stuff, it would be dishonest to pretend otherwise, you have to be honest about who you are.

Another way I see my process is that of myself as facilitator, I am after revealing artistic truths. It is there and I am the conduit through which it translates into something tangible, all I have to do is remove the obstacles, clear the way, let it flow through me and onto the canvas. At its best I remove myself from the process. There is a famous quote (or maybe not so famous as I can't remember who uttered it), a painter said something to the effect "my work goes well until I get in the way".

This is easier to achieve outside, so while it can feel hardcore getting my kit out (ooh err) in the street on a cold winters night or braving the strong coastal winds with my hat held on my head by spare thermals, to set to some serious painting; in many ways it is easier than being in the comfort zone of the studio because it has already done away with that 'comfort' which can stop me seeing clearly and puts me outside where I feel most alive - outside, where all my best thoughts come to me (a life outside was also one of the big early inspirations behind what I do). Painting 'en plein air' (I hate that phrase) in all conditions is absolutely necessary for what happens in the studio. Work in the studio draws upon the experiences in the field and is a further reflection upon that experience. More and more I am thinking about colour and its emotional impact but simpler than that, I am taking time to understand my own tastes in colour, trusting to those tastes and driving them into my work, sometimes where they may not have otherwise occurred. For me the world is in essence, abstract and needs to be understood in those terms. In my painting I like a strong visceral sense of realism and for the paint to have a life and integrity of it's own. I am after a freedom of brush stroke (or more often than not, a flourish of palette knife) that allows the paint to speak its language. I want my work to have the power and impact of Abstract expressionist painting, which is my current trajectory. These things change of course, you never reach the end, you just get to the next step; it just leads you on to the next question.