ARTIST INTERVIEW: FLEUR PATRICK
Fleur Patrick
Please introduce yourself. What originally sparked your interest in becoming an artist?
My name is Fleur and I’m a painter. I don’t come from the kind of family that went to galleries and museums, so being an artist was a very long way off my radar; but drawing, painting and making things is what I’ve always just done. I guess the turning point for me was when my A Level Art teacher encouraged me to go to a university taster day. Within moments of walking into the art studio, it was like a light switch going on. It was an incredibly sensory experience: the atmosphere, the smell, the sound of workshops, the scale of the space. It felt like coming home. As soon as I began my foundation course, everything just clicked into place…and here I am, 27 years later.
Watch it scatter to the winds
Oil and graphite on panel, 30 x 40cm, 2024
You have previously mentioned that your work reflects your own experiences of 'displacement and alienation', can you expand on this further?
My family moved around a lot when I was very young. We moved from New Zealand to England and back again several times before finally settling in England when I was about 7 or 8, and although I have never returned to New Zealand, for a long time there was the feeling that moving back again was always a possibility.
As a child, I felt like I had no roots, that compared with everyone else, I had a kind of ‘otherness’. I always put this down to all the moving, that these early upheavals had had a lasting impact on how I relate to the world; but over the years it became clear that these feelings are further complicated by my neurodiversity, which I didn’t discover until I had my children.
You accept your own sense of normality. I have always known that I navigate the world in a very particular way with very specific priorities and that I find certain things difficult. For example, unstructured social situations can be challenging for me, and I have always been sensitive to boundaries and atmosphere. It’s been so fascinating to reflect on all my old work and find this thread running all the way through; I’d been exploring these disorientating experiences through my work the whole time. Finally having this realisation about myself has completely unlocked my understanding and connection with my work.
This was, I remember, the future once
Oil and graphite on panel, 25 x 25cm, 2024
Your painting process consists of numerous layers of thinly applied paint, which are then consequently wiped down to reveal the layers below. When did you start developing this process? How does this reflect the narrative?
I think the process has been developing since right back at the beginning of my degree. Many of my early paintings were concerned with visual distortion. I was using reflective surfaces, scale and eventually lighting to subvert my subjects. I got totally hooked on how to convey artificial lighting with paint, and it was around this time I started working from film imagery. In my third year I was particularly captivated by Morris Louis, which led to experimenting with a whole range of application methods. I came to realise that the only way to achieve the buzzing luminosity I wanted, was to use transparent pigments and overlay colour and let it mix in the eye. During my 2 years at the RCA I had the opportunity to push this much further and really immerse myself in my process.
Whatever path one might
Oil and graphite on canvas, 94 x 75cm, 2024
I stepped away from painting for a period, while my children were very young, (which is a whole other story) but on restarting my practice with a newfound self-awareness and understanding, I am now able to bring all these elements from my past work together, and I am finally making the work I didn’t know I was always trying to make.
It’s the combination of the application of the paint, together with the layering of colour that creates these surfaces full of disruption and contradictions. This allows me to explore the relationship between image and surface by creating a viewing experience that is in a state of flux, continually pushing and pulling you between the painting surface and the illusionistic space it depicts.
How have your surroundings inspired your artwork?
I am incredibly sensitive to my surroundings, and it impacts everything I do. I would say I ‘feel’ places, and becoming more conscious of this has helped me to understand my need to create my own spaces through my paintings. It’s the way I experience space that influences the kind of spaces I construct.
I think one of the defining characteristics of my work is the way I use lighting. Wherever I am, something I find utterly compelling is what I’d describe as the staging of light. It’s those moments when light is channelled in some way so that it creates drama, and spaces become transformed. It could be a singular light source that illuminates or obscures objects within a shadowy darkness, or sunlight flooding through large windows, sometimes filling a space with colour, other times bleaching out all detail. These are moments that ignite a sense of wonder for me, and it definitely has an impact on the way I paint.
Describe your creative process from start to finish of your most recent painting. What initially inspired the composition? Is the process more, or less important than the finished piece?
It’s strange for me to break my practice down into a linear process as I don’t work that way. I always have several pieces, at different stages, on the go at any time, so everything kind of overlaps. The most recent painting I finished was started about 6 months ago and it’s been sitting and waiting patiently for me to work out how to finish it. It’s based on an architectural structure that I have used previously, and I just really enjoy its ambiguity. It allows me to create a genuine sense of space but leaves you with more questions than answers.
So, in the past my paintings were much more freehand, I would coat the surface with a layer of paint and just start wiping into it. But since introducing the complex architectural structures, I’ve started using tracing paper to transfer the graphite onto the canvas or panel. I had initially done it in a very minimal way, just enough to map out the painting, but I really liked what happened and it quickly became part of the work. As well as the contrast they provide, I like how the lines reference under drawing and gridding up. They also function practically for me, as it frees up more time for me to work with the paint before it dries.
Even myself, at least not fully
Oil and graphite on panel, 25 x 25cm, 2024
Before I start painting, I have a rough plan of which colours I will be using on each layer. I work with Liquin and brush a thin layer of oil paint across the whole surface. Once I’m happy with the application of colour, I use cotton rags to wipe back areas of the painting. Knowing how much to wipe back and what to leave in order for the layers to combine, has become instinctive. Initially, while the paint is wet, it’s easy to wipe very cleanly, but as the paint goes off, it gets harder to remove and I can adapt my pressure to create different marks and effects. Depending on the air temperature, I might have a whole day before the layer dries, but in the summer, it can be just a few hours.
As the layers progress, there is always more to do, so the final layer can be a real test of endurance, both mentally and physically. I don’t always have time for a break or to eat, so, while I try not to, I will occasionally work 6-8 hours straight.
I make the paintings in as few layers as possible, it’s rare for my paintings to be made of more than 4 layers as I find they become clunky and over cooked. Finishing them is the hardest part, I usually have to leave them for a period of time to know how to respond. Sometimes, by leaving one for several weeks, it will suddenly hit me that it’s been finished the whole time. Other times the layer doesn’t work, and I end up wiping the whole thing off. In the case of my most recent painting, I found the final layer really uncomfortable. There is a point of no return with my work, when it is too dry, and I can no longer make any changes. I had a huge crisis of confidence and came incredibly close to wiping the whole layer off, but I forced myself to leave the studio and walked away feeling full of knots. It wasn’t until the next morning I was relieved to discover I had made the right call.
I don’t have a set formula for making my work, so I never know how each piece will turn out or if indeed it’ll succeed; and after committing so much of myself to each layer, it is hugely disappointing when they fail. But some of them inevitably do. So much of what I do relies on the spontaneity and happenstance nature of the materials, so I can’t do much in the way of preparatory work, but by working on multiply paintings at once, I am constantly making new discoveries and learning as I go, so they all feed into each other. All the work is interlinked, and the work IS the process.
What is the relationship between art and psychology?
Certainly, for me, the act of making work and reflecting on it, helps me understand who I am and how I process the world. But ultimately, the work is intended to be seen by others, and therefore the role of the audience must be considered, as I don’t want to create a passive experience.
One of the reasons I find it so difficult to finish my paintings is because I am attempting to provide only enough information to suggest a place. If the work is overly prescribed, there’s no space for the viewer to project their own experiences into the work. The painting should act as a trigger for a feeling or memory, then the viewer has to bring something of themselves to the work and the painting meets them halfway. In this sense, the paintings are psychological spaces that can only be fully realised by the viewer.
And if we don't, there'll be nothing
Oil and graphite on panel, 30 x 40cm, 2024
Out of all your paintings, which has been your favourite to work on, and why?
That’s a really difficult question and I actually don’t think I can answer it! Some paintings are a complete joy and just kind of make themselves, while others are a battle from start to finish, it can be harrowing to work through. But I learn something from every painting, including the ones that don’t make it.
If you could spend a day with an artist; dead or alive, who would it be, and why?
Over the past few years, I have developed a strong connection to the work of Edouard Vuillard. His paintings resonate with me on many levels, the way figures simultaneously emerge from and camouflage with their surroundings, the uncomfortable situations and unusual compositions. I also find him personally quite intriguing, and I feel like we would understand each other.
What has been your greatest achievement so far as an artist? What are your future aspirations?
My greatest achievement is simply the fact that I am maintaining my practice. It is no small thing to construct an environment for yourself that allows the highly specific working conditions for thinking, looking and doing, in a conscious way. Finding a way to balance this with everyday life is a constant challenge and I have huge respect for everyone that manages to achieve it.
My hope for the future is to be able to carve out a bigger portion of time and space for my work, they are such precious commodities!
Why do you think art is important in society?
That’s a hard one to put into words! I believe Art, in all its forms, is fundamental to the human experience and a key factor in unlocking creative thinking. Through actively engaging with art, we learn how to think differently. We unlock all kinds of thoughts and emotions that force us to reflect on ourselves and the world around us and it enhances our ability to understand and communicate who we are and what we believe. It enriches our lives, but I do not think it makes them easier. The experience of art should leave you with more questions than answers. The questions can be difficult at times, but always important.
