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, one of the fathers of modern art. In his work I saw a directness; an honesty. You know where you stand with Cezanne. 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 except the only person who had hidden the trick from me was myself. There wasn't a 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 does feel like life is a process of pulling the scales from ones eyes, but Cezanne was pulling no punches. He layed it all out before me and all I had to do was open my eyes and let it in.
That is how great art should be. Much art I see today hides a lack of substance behind endless layers of obscurity. Art for me should feel necessary. It should be bourne of a need to create. Cezanne used paint to ask questions of the the world. To ask questions of life and the paintings are results of that enquiry.
So 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 percieve them to be. It is like a voyage of discovery or rather self discovery. Sometimes I feel like an archeologist 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 dis-honest to pretend otherwise. You have to be honest about who you are. Another way I see my process as that of me as facilitator. I am after revealing artistic truths. It is there and I am the condiut 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 it's 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 your kit out (ooh er) 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 us 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 direct on the spot in all conditions (where it is possible to hold all your stuff together and keep it relatively dry) is absolutely necessary to breath life into what happens in the studio. It frees me up and drives me towards that abstraction which I desire. For me the world is in essence abstract and needs to be understood in those terms for my painting to work. I am after a marriage of the kind of energy to be found in the Abstract expressionists with the figurative. That is my current trajectory. These thing change of course. You never reach the end. You just get to the next step. It just leads you onto the next question.