In 2016, during a family visit at Christmas, my eldest son turned to me and asked, “Dad, if I built a website for you to illustrate your artwork, what would you write for your ‘About’ page?” I thought about that for a long time. You see I’m already represented by a gallery in America, and 5 years ago I was asked for a ‘bio’ to go alongside my work. I was obligated to write something that was 'upbeat’ and positive about painting, emphasising my enthusiasm for the process and my career.
In the end I turned to him and asked, “Would you want honesty or sales speak?” In response he gave me a series of one-line ‘prompts’ much like you’d find in an interview for a Sunday newspaper supplement and told me to “just be Keith”.
Well, as you've probably gathered, my name is Keith. I'm an ex-IT manager, and I have been painting for 55+ years. I am currently living in Kent with my wife and favourite son, spending much of my time attempting to capture images of the remaining rural areas around my home and the picturesque scenes I encounter during my wanderings on the river Medway and the Thames estuary.
The truth of the matter is that I don’t paint for pleasure; I paint to avoid the emptiness I feel when not painting. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t trying to create images, and unfortunately I can’t remember a time when I’ve ever been truly satisfied with what I produce. I'm a perfectionist when it comes to painting and very critical of my own work.
Now here’s the thing, I don’t get inspired. If I waited for inspiration I’d finish a painting once every 2 or 3 years. I seek out subjects and compositions I think I can turn into interesting images. It’s as much a process as mixing the right colours or choosing the correct size brush. The advantage it has over ‘inspiration’ is that, the older you get, the easier it gets, the fewer mistakes you make and less ends up in the dustbin. Few works (almost none) that begin with ‘inspiration’ satisfy the original ‘vision’ when finally complete. They barely make adequate bin-liners.
Now that’s complex while at the same time simple. It can best be described in a single word: ‘fulfilment’. A single painting that I would consider ‘perfect’. Faultless draughtsmanship, perfect colour harmony, flawless perspective and matchless realism; in essence a complete realisation of an original concept.
Hmmm, now this is an aspect critics like refer to when considering a painter’s background and/or academic standing. When trying to dismiss a painter’s work then often use the bald fact that he/she is ‘self taught’ to negate the quality of his work without being specific about which aspects. I would say that I am 90% self-taught and the remaining 10% bolstered by tutored studies in ‘life painting’. Would I have benefitted from a greater proportion of tutored studies? Almost certainly not. I would have lost a greater proportion of what I do well and substituted for an arbitrary set of codified skills that would not have necessarily enhanced my output visually.
Simplistically I like to paint that which I am successful at painting. In that respect I find landscapes and seascapes invariably meet this requirement or exceed the original expectation.
I don’t rush into a project. I usually have a few ideas brewing in my head and when I feel I have enough relevant material drawn from disparate sources to complete an image I might start. I’m conscious that a good photograph is unlikely to make a good painting by simple reproduction. A good photograph relies almost entirely on an immediate visual impact whereas a good painting must evidence a narrative and expertise in execution. Given the same level of expertise in execution; the better the narrative, the better the painting.
I don’t ‘love’ anything about painting other than the warm, familiar smell of oil paint. Painting is just something I have to do. Since I can remember it has always been ‘part and parcel’ of my sense of self-worth. Criticise my painting and you criticise me. If you chose to denigrate or belittle my work then be prepared to give a iron-clad rationale for your comments, evidence a greater level of expertise in painting or expect a response that more offensively paraphrases Rembrandt’s words, “…cobbler to your last…”
My children. Seriously and immodestly; against what we have achieved in them, my efforts and success in producing pleasing images truly pales into insignificance.