When I think about emptiness, I don’t perceive it as a void or a bleak absence, but as an opening—a clearing where my creativity begins. It’s not the hollow echo of nothingness, but a quiet expanse that invites possibility. There’s a certain vitality to emptiness, a spaciousness where ideas can take root. For me, the creative process feels less like an act of filling up and more like a gentle uncovering, a letting-be.
Clearing Away Illusions to Find Reality
I’ve often found myself drawn to the reflections of both existentialists and mystics on the nature of emptiness. Iris Murdoch’s words in *Existentialists and Mystics* resonate with me: “We live in a fantasy world, a world of illusion. The great task in life is to find reality.” When I approach an empty canvas, I face this challenge directly—it’s not merely about adding paint or making marks, but about clearing away illusions and allowing the essence of things to reveal itself. This kind of emptiness requires a certain surrender, a stepping back to see beyond my habitual thoughts and let something more authentic emerge.
Listening to the Silence of the Blank Canvas
When I stand before an empty canvas, I don’t sense a demand to fill it, but rather an invitation to listen, to notice what wants to come through. In this receptive state, ideas arise less as deliberate constructions and more as whispers, as if the blank space itself holds a kind of knowing. I’ve learned to trust this process of listening to the empty space, rather than imposing my will upon it, allowing for a different kind of expression—a deeper, truer one. I think of it as an active silence, a space not just devoid of content but rich in potential.
The Vital Role of Space Around Things
This interplay with emptiness often reminds me of how the spaces around things are just as important as the things themselves. The pauses in music, the silent intervals that frame each note, give shape to the melody. In my painting practice, I often flood the canvas with color, layering energy and movement. But then I use white—erasing, or rather, quieting the surface. White gives me the space back, returning the canvas to a place of stillness. It’s a way of capturing time, of marking the passage of creation and erasure, much like life itself. It mirrors the human condition—where things are made and undone, where clarity emerges from what was once chaotic. This is where the work begins to breathe.
EXHIBITION
Small Is Beautiful – Flowers Gallery, Cork Street
21.11.2024 – 4.01.2025
I’m thrilled to announce that I’ll be exhibiting at Flowers Gallery in their Small Is Beautiful exhibition this winter. It’s a wonderful opportunity to share my work in such an iconic space on Cork Street. There’s something deeply personal about working on a smaller scale—it allows for a kind of quiet intensity that I’m looking forward to exhibiting in one of my all-time favourite spaces in London.