The Beginnings of a Lifelong Passion

In the quiet hush of an art class, amidst the calm focus of artists and the still life before them, my journey into the world of art began. I was six and ill, wrapped in the warmth of a fever, when my mother, who was steadfast in her dedication to her art classes, decided to bring me along rather than miss her session. As I nestled on the floor, surrounded by adults transfixed by a bowl of fruit under the spell of carefully arranged lighting, a question formed in my young mind: What is this world, so different from anything I had known?

That day, the seeds of curiosity were planted. My mother's enthusiasm for art was infectious, even if, at the time, I couldn't fully grasp the depth of her passion. She had an art book by Andrew Wyeth, an American painter known for his incredibly lifelike and representational work. To my young eyes, his paintings were like windows to other worlds, so realistic they seemed to challenge the very notion of what a painting could be.

A few years later, that seed of curiosity sprouted anew in an unexpected place—a queue outside an art gallery in New York. I was ten and on holiday with my family, wondering why we were waiting in line just to see paintings. But as we stepped into the gallery, the answer came into sharp relief. It was there, amidst Wyeth's stirring works, that I felt the true power of art for the first time—the profound connection between viewer and image, the way a flat, two-dimensional surface could evoke such a well of emotion. It was a revelation: art wasn't just something to see; it was something to experience, something to feel.

——————-

This series is a look back at those moments, the defining experiences that have shaped my three decades as a full-time artist. Join me as I revisit the memories that have carved the path of my artistic expression.

---

Stay tuned for the next entry in this series, where I'll delve deeper into the evolution of my artistic voice and the locations that have inspired my work.