All journal entries

Before the Painting, There Is a Moment

How a photograph, a memory and the feeling of being somewhere become the starting point for a painting.

How does one start a painting?

For me, it normally begins with something I’ve experienced. A moment I’ve taken a photograph of because something made me want to keep it.

It can be the way the sun is shining, or how the breeze hits my face. The stillness somewhere. The crashing of the waves. That feeling of something major changing in my life, or perhaps nothing changing at all.

Something in that moment makes me reach for my camera. Makes me want to capture it before it passes.

It might be a holiday, a cherished moment with someone I love, an exciting night out in town or a visit to the theatre. So many memories. Sometimes I think it’s impossible to document them all, although I seem to give it a good go with the number of photographs I take.

But then I have to choose one.

Sometimes I choose because of the lighting. Sometimes it’s the photograph itself: the way I’ve taken it, how everything sits together, how I imagine it might look on a canvas.

Other times, I can’t really explain it. I just have a feeling that I have to paint that.

Most of the time, it’s landscapes. But lately I’ve started finding myself drawn towards animals. First there was the turtle, and now, after visiting Chester Zoo, I’ve got this massive idea in my head about painting a red panda.

Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t.

Maybe the turtle will sit on the wall for the next two years waiting to be finished. I’m not really sure. Having the idea and finishing the painting can be quite a distance apart.

But either way, that feeling has to be there. That longing to paint that particular thing. To make it look alive. To feel that there’s something there when I look at it.

I think that’s part of what I’m trying to hold on to when I paint. The photograph gives me something to work from, but I also remember being there. What was happening around me. What I was thinking. How that moment felt.

And I wonder how much of that can find its way into a painting.

That feeling of remembering a distant memory. A moment you can’t get back to, but that’s still somewhere deep in your heart.