ORDNUNG AND ECCENTRICITY
Art has always been a part of me. I vaguely remember the colouring books of my infancy in Switzerland; later, in Edinburgh, those books were substituted for my father's architectural drawings; and then, via art college in Berlin, drawing and design became part of my career in advertising. But, it wasn't until I was confronted with the distinct possibility of my imminent demise that I decided that fine art, without any lines or rules attached, was now the only way forward. On Tuesday the 12th of May 2009 I underwent a major procedure to remove a malignant tumour. And with it the surgeon also cut out any lingering doubt about my wanting to be an artist.
I find inspiration all around me, often in the most obscure places, and at the most inopportune moments. And given that I am not really partial to multitasking (if you're going to do something, do it properly), I will take that initial blip of an idea and let it fester. If it's any good it will grow and take shape, and if it isn't it will simply fade and die. In fact, I believe it is my absolute inability to do… anything, no matter how exciting or, indeed, mundane, without seeing something in it, that defines me as an artist. What it is I've seen doesn't always make sense. It's not clear, it’s not structured but 'something' makes my mind wander. And that is the beginning of the creative process…
Once ready to draw/paint/shoot I tend to plan the logistics of my work in great detail. I like to have everything in place… this is the 'Ordnung' that I need—my German half—and not until that is done can the eccentric Scottish part of me take over. More often than not the work I produce is figurative, but that is all that holds it together. My style and the materials I use vary a great deal and I have no hesitation, when it comes to painting, to jump from one style to another if the mood takes me. I will happily use 14th century egg tempera techniques, scratching away at a piece of gesso-coated wood one minute, and then flit over to the iMac and produce a purely (21st century) digital piece. And, I am probably at my happiest when all the different styles merge…
More and more I'm finding it is the process of creating itself that is most important to me, rather than the end product: that almost euphoric state that I find myself in when in the midst of painting something, something that's never been seen or done before. Thankfully, I tend to be alone when I'm in that state of mind. Not only because of the [probably] bizarre jumping/dancing around, screaming along with the music and holding highly intelligent conversations with my canvas, but also because, at that moment, I am at my most vulnerable and any comment, even if well meant, can alter the outcome of my work. Even destroy it. And I don’t want that to happen.
Art has always been a part of me. I vaguely remember the colouring books of my infancy in Switzerland; later, in Edinburgh, those books were substituted for my father's architectural drawings; and then, via art college in Berlin, drawing and design became part of my career in advertising. But, it wasn't until I was confronted with the distinct possibility of my imminent demise that I decided that fine art, without any lines or rules attached, was now the only way forward. On Tuesday the 12th of May 2009 I underwent a major procedure to remove a malignant tumour. And with it the surgeon also cut out any lingering doubt about my wanting to be an artist.
I find inspiration all around me, often in the most obscure places, and at the most inopportune moments. And given that I am not really partial to multitasking (if you're going to do something, do it properly), I will take that initial blip of an idea and let it fester. If it's any good it will grow and take shape, and if it isn't it will simply fade and die. In fact, I believe it is my absolute inability to do… anything, no matter how exciting or, indeed, mundane, without seeing something in it, that defines me as an artist. What it is I've seen doesn't always make sense. It's not clear, it’s not structured but 'something' makes my mind wander. And that is the beginning of the creative process…
Once ready to draw/paint/shoot I tend to plan the logistics of my work in great detail. I like to have everything in place… this is the 'Ordnung' that I need—my German half—and not until that is done can the eccentric Scottish part of me take over. More often than not the work I produce is figurative, but that is all that holds it together. My style and the materials I use vary a great deal and I have no hesitation, when it comes to painting, to jump from one style to another if the mood takes me. I will happily use 14th century egg tempera techniques, scratching away at a piece of gesso-coated wood one minute, and then flit over to the iMac and produce a purely (21st century) digital piece. And, I am probably at my happiest when all the different styles merge…
More and more I'm finding it is the process of creating itself that is most important to me, rather than the end product: that almost euphoric state that I find myself in when in the midst of painting something, something that's never been seen or done before. Thankfully, I tend to be alone when I'm in that state of mind. Not only because of the [probably] bizarre jumping/dancing around, screaming along with the music and holding highly intelligent conversations with my canvas, but also because, at that moment, I am at my most vulnerable and any comment, even if well meant, can alter the outcome of my work. Even destroy it. And I don’t want that to happen.