How would you describe what you do to someone who hasn’t seen your art?
It can be quite difficult to describe my work, probably because the visual world is its own language, transmitted through pre-verbal pathways. But, in essence, I paint. I feel a response sourced from the outer world to an intuitive sense of something initially perceived in the inner world. On the surface the outcome could be seen as realism, interpreted as still life or landscape but in principle it is a response to something sensed, or a question posed to which one seeks an answer.
When and how did you first fall in love with art?
When I was four years old I said: “I’m going to be an artist” and have never wavered from that.
What is your subject matter and where do you find inspiration?
My focus has always been light, as a metaphor for the expression of a sense of the numinous. The physical subject can be anything from the ocean or sky, to common or found objects, to bits and pieces of nature, to hillsides or humans or, early in my career, light within abstract compositions.
Can you tell us about the place you work?
Having previously worked in anything from a small concrete shed in the bush to a railway carriage to an old schoolhouse, my current studio is like the Rolls Royce version of a studio. Through the window the trees, ocean and sky play their symphony of light, changing throughout the day and night, reflecting the nuances of weather patterns. The ceiling is high, unlike other studios I’ve worked in, and my easel doesn’t hit the ceiling when doing a large painting.
Is there a particular material you favour?
Although I have worked with many different materials over time — pencil, charcoal, conte, watercolour, acrylic, inks, etching and printing — my focus has primarily been oil painting. For me there is nothing that can match the luscious and silky feel of quality oil paint applied to a prepared surface, and the possibilities this medium holds.
If you could add one artwork to your collection – what would it be and why?
The painting which I saw at the Ufizzi in Italy, Ecce Homo by Antonio Ciseri, with its impressive composition and light, and any of the late paintings by Lloyd Rees which I saw at the Art Gallery of NSW, Sydney in 2000 — large scale, ethereal and immersive.