Making Space for Uncertainty

This week, I worked on a drawing of my dad and his twin brother from an old photograph, obviously taken in a professional photographer's studio .

The picture grabbed me because the boys, who must be only 3 or 4 years old, are wearing the most adorable clothes and both have such sweet and innocent expressions. My dad looks dubious about the whole adventure, and my uncle looks a little confused, but also excited.

Usually I instinctively move towards disruption — obscuring faces, dissolving edges, sanding things back, and letting ambiguity lead the way. But this time I've found myself preserving the faces much more clearly than usual.

I love the feeling I've created in the drawing - but I also don't trust the 'completeness' of the image.

For me, memory isn't clear. It shifts and erodes. Certain details sharpen while others completely disappear. And in my other paintings, I have found that I can get more emotional truth from fragments than from a perfectly rendered likeness.

And yet with this image, I was initially resistant to too much disruption. I think because I was afraid of losing them again.

My dad died in 1995 when he was only 60 and his brother passed about 10 years ago. Making this drawing felt like bringing them back to life in a strange way. 

But as I look at it now, I know there is more to do. I long to bring in more uncertainty and also to remove any hint of sentimentality. I think I want the piece to have a little more space - I want to open up it up to allow viewers to enter. 

I have noticed that the same theme is appearing elsewhere in my life. This week I moved all my abstract paintings out of my studio because they’ve gone to my framer. This has, of course, created space.

At the same time, I'm extending my painting wall and adding a huge cork section so I can pin up larger works and studies.

And towards the end of the week, I met with an architect to discuss creating an annexe on my house.

Each of these seemingly disparate events relates to uncertainty and possibility. What comes next now the abstract paintings have gone? What will I make on that large cork wall? What will the annexe become?

In all these areas of life, I'm creating space for experimentation, for uncertainty and for possibility. And then it came to me: I think perhaps I’m making more space because I need more space for not knowing.

The older I get, the less interested I become in certainty - in painting or in life.

And perhaps that’s why fully finished images can sometimes feel less true than disrupted ones.

I'm going back into this piece this week, armed with my orbital sander and lots more paint. I will layer paint and charcoal. I will sand back some areas so they disappear entirely. And I will get experimental, just to see what happens. 

And in doing so, I won't lose the boys in that painting - I think I'll actually breathe more life into them. Watch this space!