For many years in the UK it has not been necessary to sign one's
paintings. Usually a name goes on the back of them - plus details of medium
if conservation is a worry for the future.
Similarly, there are no grand openings of exhibitions, and the artist
turns up late for the private view, dressed no differently from the average
guest. Secretly of course, most people wish to be known for their work.
It's all related to the ego. In Thailand, artists still seem to be rather
more honest about this. Thai artists' biographies often look rather impressive
at the back of very professional looking publicity. But Thailand doesn't
seem to suffer the same cynicism of western countries that throws otherwise
more instinctive drives into confusion.
One can't easily say any more: "Look at me! I've done this and
I have a right to feel proud of it". But at the heart of this western
diffidence is a fundamental truth: It's very difficult now to do anything
that is innovative or really worth anything.
Acrylic, oil paint,
sand, latex glue on canvas 87 x 142 cms
A sort of autobiography
My early introduction to art started at college in London in the 70s'.
My degree college was rather traditional in its orientation. Fine Art Painting
meant painting whereas most
of the galleries were showing photographs and texts as fine art. This made
me feel rather embarrassed to paint, and I tried to do other things. It
wasn't until a spell at the Painting School of the Royal College of Art
in the early 80s - three years painting full-time amongst students who
had made a clear commitment to the medium - that painting really took hold
of me. Coinciding with this was a resurgence of figurative painting In
Europe. In retrospect I'm pleased that the 70s gave me some insight into
other mediums. I have taught art for most of my life since then, and my
general inclination at any level of art teaching I have been involved with
is not to assume that any student of art will become a painter. I teach
mainly 3D at the moment, which is building and making things, at Harrow
International School in Bangkok. In a way, I get the students doing things
I would like to be able to do myself - work where there is a clear relationship
between idea, materials/process, and outcome. Painting for me is just not
like that. Let's use the metaphor of transparency and opacity. Painting
is an opaque medium. It's difficult to see clearly through it, to communicate
in any obvious way through it and make obvious statements.
Between 30 and 40 years old - I'm now 46 - the drive to paint was replaced
by the need to live more easily, more comfortably. This had an effect on
my painting. If you visit the exhibition you will maybe see one painting
that I really struggled with, as though a battle had taken place. If you
can imagine it, I used to make sure that all of my paintings were like
that. (The legacy of the angry young man?). But since I've been in Thailand,
I've started to feel that if I don't feel relaxed about any painting, I
should throw it away. Maybe it has taken the example of Thainess to start
to teach me that lesson! Where does the motivation for something like painting
come from? Before coming to Thailand to live I studied psychodynamic counselling
for a year. The idea is that the unconscious is a very strong drive that
affects our conscious lives, and it helps to be watchful of this often-devious
power that shapes the way we think and behave. Language itself is thought
to have multiple layers relating to the conscious and unconscious. Painting
and other art forms are also thought by some people to have a language
and work like language. I tend to believe this and am watchful and curious
of less conscious levels of communication, expression or thought that may
come through. These levels need not negate one another, and can be various
avenues of speculation that may or may not be mutually informative. As
far as I'm concerned, uncertainty rules okay! If you want to hear me on
my real passion, get me onto the subject of song canaries. I'm not joking
either.