After all of that — the years of thinking, the research, the composition, the drawing, the long months of layering — there is one last stage, and it requires patience of a different kind.
I glaze.
Using a Damar glaze, I work carefully over the surface of the painting, unifying the tones and deepening the richness of the colour. It’s a quiet, almost meditative stage after everything that came before it. And then I have to stop. And wait.
The painting needs to dry completely — truly dry, crispy and bone dry, which can take a month or more. Only then do I apply a final Damar varnish. That varnish is the last thing I do. After that, the painting is finished.
Or at least, hopefully it is.
There is always a moment of uncertainty at the end, a breath held. But that uncertainty is part of it too. Every painting is a journey that begins long before the canvas and ends, quietly, with a coat of varnish and a step back to see what you’ve made.
V. Building in Layers
Now comes the stage that drives me mad. Layering is the heart of how I paint, and it is slow, deliberate work. I begin with very thin paint — almost a wash — and I don't touch detail at all. Not yet. I'm only interested in tone. I work from the darkest shadows first,...
IV. Drawing in Blood
Once I have my reference, the drawing begins. I usually work in charcoal, fixing it carefully so it doesn't bleed into the paint layers that follow. But sometimes I reach for a pastel pencil called sanguine - derived from the Latin word that means blood. There is...
III. Choosing the Model
The model is never an afterthought. I choose who I work with carefully, because the right person has to carry the emotional thread that has been running through the painting in my mind, sometimes for years. When I'm ready, I spend a whole day with my model — taking...
II. The Sweet Spot
There is a moment, early in every painting, where I do something that might seem a little mathematical for an emotional painter: . On a blank canvas, I map out the Pythagoras division of the rectangle to find the sweet spots. precise lines, carefully drawn. Where...
I. Before the Brush Touches Canvas
A painting begins long before there is any paint. For me, the real work happens in the quiet. In the weeks, months, sometimes years before I ever stand in front of a canvas. I am an emotional painter. I paint what I feel. And feelings, as anyone knows, cannot be...