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 those lines intersect are what I call the sweet spots. I mark each one with a small dot. And from that point on, every major decision about composition is guided by those dots.
It sounds technical, and it is, but it exists entirely as a tool for the artist to build a resolved composition. Caravaggio understood this. Look at his great works and you can see how deliberately he divides his canvas. How the eye is pulled exactly where he wants it, how the drama lands in just the right place. Structure, used well, doesn’t constrain emotion. It amplifies it.
Skipping this stage is a tempting shortcut, especially when you’re excited and just want to begin. I’ve learned the hard way what happens if you do. You can find yourself deep into a painting, realising the composition is fundamentally wrong, and there is very little you can do about it. Far better to take the time at the start.
The sweet spots are my safety net — and my compass.
VI. The Final Glaze
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,...
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...
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...