ARTIST INTERVIEW: John Heywood-Waddington
John Heywood-Waddington
Tell me about yourself, describe your journey as an artist
I’m a London-based artist, with a practice largely focused on painting but I’m also interested in poetry, sculpture, printmaking and film-making. I have worked in these other media and continue to experiment with and explore poetry and short films.
I’ve been editing a 5-minute short I filmed about 10 years ago with some friends and for one reason or another never got round to completing till now. It’s reminded me how much I enjoy the collaborative process of film-making - as a contrast to the solitary nature of painting. In any case, to me all these other artforms spring from the same impulse and inform one another. I’d like to develop a more sustained, consistent interdisciplinary practice in future. I’m planning to work with sculpture this year. I’m excited to see how this informs my painting practice.
My studio is close to where I live in Deptford at Second Floor Studios & Arts. I was lucky to find a place so soon after completing an MA in Fine Art at City and Guilds School of Art last year.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always enjoyed art. It was a subject I thrived in at school, and the encouragement I received from teachers, family and friends, made me think I must be onto something. From a young age, I was always happiest being creative; drawing, or writing a short story, a poem or making films with my dad’s video camera.
One of those pivotal moments, that has stayed with me, was when my art teacher, Mr. Smith, asked if he could keep my A level painting. That meant such a lot, the idea that he rated my ability that much that he wanted my painting hanging in his home. That was all the validation I needed.
Instead of going on to art college, however, as my art teacher had suggested I should, I went a different route, thinking that a degree in Media Arts might be better guarantee of a job. So, I spent three wonderful years studying and making films & tv and having a great time. I did love cinema and still do, and I thought I could apply my creative abilities in fine art to film-making, whereas, while the idea of being a struggling painter in Paris held enormous appeal and sounded romantic, I doubted myself too much to do it. And it would have been a harder sell to my parents.
I spent about 10 years doing other things and jobs I didn’t like, though some I did, particularly working at the Estorick Collection of Italian Modern Art and temping at Paintings in Hospitals at the Menier Gallery - but I always had the gnawing sense that I was neglecting my calling by not allowing myself the opportunity to develop whatever artistic abilities I had. And it seemed that to ignore such an insistent voice, not to answer the call, would be a waste, and I’d always regret it if I didn’t at least give myself the chance to try.
I did a Foundation course at City Lit back in 2007, which was brilliant, and then, instead of applying for a BA or MA programme afterwards, I deferred this decision. Life got in the way. I ended up doing an MA in Writing at Falmouth university instead, writing a quarter of a memoir about me trying to do stand-up and having a mid-life crisis, and contributing restaurant reviews for a monthly food & drink magazine.
Returning to London, l completed my BA Hons in fine art at Kensington & Chelsea College, and afterwards shared a studio with a friend of mine at Thames Side Studios for a few years.
I’d had my sights on City & Guilds for some time as a place I wanted to do my MA. I was thrilled to get in for the 2021 intake. It was an intensive, transformative year for me and I met many lovely, talented people and was encouraged, challenged and advised by a lot of inspirational tutors. By the end, I felt I’d learnt a lot - both about me and about my practice.
Recently, I took part in The Other Art Fair at Truman Brewery venue in London. A great experience that really focused my mind. Currently, I’m focusing on making work for a group show and more fairs and exhibitions, and I hope to undertake a residency later this year.
How has Western art history influenced your work?
Western art history has certainly informed and influenced my practice. I think it’s almost impossible to be an artist without the DNA of the Western art Tradition being in some way present, and manifesting itself - whether explicitly or in more subtle ways - in your work.
Whenever I’m making a piece of art, I’m always conscious of the art historical lineage. It’s like you’re aware of the footsteps you’re following in and all those that have trodden the path before you.
Now, as 21st century artists, we have access to this enormous repository and wealth of talent, of all the breadth and variety of voices and all the developments that have gone before. And now we have all these digital toys at our disposal now. And AI - a new frontier.
For example, seascapes and landscapes are a classic trope in the art historical tradition and I’m influenced by a panoply of artists such as Turner, Manet and Monet who found inspiration in these subjects for many of their paintings.
But then, moving into the 20th century, the conception of what such a broad genre as landscape could be, opened up into abstraction, and I’m similarly influenced by Per Kirkby, Clyde Hopkins and Peter Lanyon.
What are your paintings about? What are the messages behind your work?
My paintings are about the experience of making the work, about the materiality of the paint as much as the external object they reference and represent. I’d certainly categorise myself as a figurative artist but in a loose and broad sense. I’m interested in abstract language too but operating within a representational structure.
What I aim for in my painting is; expressiveness, gestural vitality and vivid brushwork. I want the painting to evoke the process, and for the viewer to feel the intensity of the marks, the brushstrokes and the colour, as much as I want them to recognise the external world represented and recreated.
I often work from subject matter that is of the world: landscapes, people, everyday scenarios, domestic interiors etc… but what excites me is the point in the construction of the work where the subject matter takes on a new life in the painting, it’s literally recreated in the process of painting and the representation is a dance between figuration and abstraction, the brushstrokes and palette asserting their own meaning.
I want the viewer to experience the familiar or recognisable and see it a new way.
And in terms of recurrent themes and motifs in my work, they have to do with nostalgia, and time’s transience, a celebration of recreational moments between friends, encounters. A lot of the figures in my paintings tend to be looking away, or walking off, on the brink of something, in anticipation of something, reflective… I want to preserve in paintings, particular moments, glimpses of life.
Often, these moments are every day, there’s nothing posed or grand about them. It’s in the painting that I hope to capture and distil, lyrical quality in these everyday activities: people in cafes or bars distracted, people walking in the country etc…
I think my background in media, and love of film has informed my paintings because I think about the compositions often in terms of cinematic imagery.
Describe your creative process; from start to finish of one of your pieces. Where do you find your inspiration?
My creative process usually starts with photography and/or drawings in a sketchbook, where I work out ideas. I love drawing, particularly with charcoal.
When I take the photos, I think about how they might work as paintings, so if something catches my eye I’ll snap away with the iPhone, trying to compose the shot. I often modify and edit these photos later in Photoshop, cropping, cutting, highlighting and altering certain elements for the composition.
Back in the studio, I then work from the photo, making drawings, sometimes large-scale just to get familiar with the reference, and to block out the composition. It’s a good way of loosening up and I don’t feel any pressure to get it right. It’s about finding things out.
After preparatory sketches, I then prime the canvas, which I usually stretch myself. If I have time, I like to be invested in every stage of the painting’s construction. I enjoy the ritual of stretching and priming. Then I usually lay down a coat of acrylic paint - a light colour like yellow or pink to give me a ground and a mid-tone. This instantly overcomes the problem of the daunting white space.
Then I start painting. I usually work with oils because I love their sensual material qualities, the buttery richness, lustre, malleability, depth and all of the historical connotations that they carry. It’s nice to feel you’re part of a long tradition and lineage of artists who’ve worked in the same medium.
How do you use colour to create a mood?
I usually lay down a ground midtone in acrylic on my canvases to overcome the daunting white space issue - in light yellow or pink, but sometimes in earthier colours like yellow ochre or burnt sienna. But always a light tone for the underpainting. I always find this instantly helps to create a colour environment and sets a mood or tone for the painting. I love working with earthy pigments like burnt umber, raw sienna, alizarin crimson, venetian red sap green and Prussian blue.
I sometimes use bright colours, fluorescent pink or green for the underpainting, allowing glimpses of this ‘’unnatural’ colour to pierce through the oils which I paint over the ground layer. This can be really effective in drawing the eye, and it draws attention to the construction of the painting.
Do any of your works reflect how you are feeling?
Yes. I think the successful works do reflect how I’m feeling. I think unless there is something of me in the painting - my emotional investment, my feelings, my thoughts, then it doesn’t work.
I heard someone comparing art to love and being in a relationship. If you’re just going through the motions, or you’re not committed, then it shows. And I know when it’s not working, or when I’m not feeling it. And then I need to step back and really think about what I’m trying to say, or why I’m making this particular work. What is it that’s driving me to make the work? A good gauge for me - is asking myself what I’m trying to communicate and why. This goes back to the wonderful year I spent doing my MA at City & Guilds School of Art, where we would be regularly encouraged to write self-reflection forms on each piece we were making. Initially, I found them a bit of a chore but soon found them really valuable and it helped me to think critically and honestly about my practice.
I often make work that isn’t successful and doesn’t achieve what I want it to and it’s frustrating. But being able to learn from it and try and work out why it’s not working is invaluable.
When a work is successful is when my mind and body are in sync and focused on putting on the canvas how I’m feeling. But it takes time for me to reach this state - this flow state where I’m unencumbered by self- consciousness and completely wrapped up in the process of painting, lost in the rhythm of it. That’s when I feel it’s really working. But then self-consciousness inevitably intervenes and the critical voice, so it’s a negotiation between the two.
Who is your favourite artist and why? Do they have an influence on your work?
That’s a difficult question because I have lots of favourites and, depending on what mood I’m in, they can change. But a constant, for me, would have to be Matisse - whom I love. His paintings always cheer me up. I really feel warmth and love in his paintings. They radiate such warmth and light and dazzling use of colour and such exquisite, apparently effortless simplicity in his use of line and brushstroke.
I remember what an impression, The Red Studio (L’Atelier Rouge”) (1911) and Dessert: Harmony in Red (1908) made on me when I first saw them. Domestic interiors saturated in red, a schematic treatment, the flattened perspective… I love them because they exemplify what art can do and what painting can be. They were electrifying and made me see things in a new way, I felt them, I experienced an emotional charge that the colours aroused in me. It wasn’t just “a room”, it was that, but it was more than that… It showed how the ordinary, everyday material of life could be recreated, elevated and intensified and yet, ostensibly, the Dessert painting is a domestic interior with a figure and some plates of food. But it was Matisse’s bravura treatment of familiar subject matter that made it so exciting. This was an example of a painting that invited you to think about the object it depicted and how it was represented, to reflect on its construction and materiality.
Why do you think art is important in society?
I think Art is important in society because it holds a mirror up to life and helps us navigate all of its complexities, mysteries and challenges. It shows us we’re not alone in dark and difficult times. Art can of course be vital as a critique of society, as a means of speaking truth to power.
But of course, it also fulfills a huge emotional, psychological need to communicate, share feelings, ideas and tell stories, and to celebrate being alive as much as to interrogate the human experience.
I think art helps us makes sense of a fractured world, of fractured minds and answers a deep need within all of us to understand and be understood - and to create. I think the impulse to make artworks in whatever shape of form is innate within most of us. It’s how we attempt to make sense of ourselves in an increasingly chaotic, disordered, overwhelming world.
I think the rise of AI and exponential advance in technology means that we’ll want to nourish and treasure our humanness even more - the idea that a work of art is made by a sentient, feeling human who has experienced life and not a machine that is simply reproducing what its learnt through algorithms. I’m not in any way decrying AI, I think it’s incredible even if it’s scary. But our responses as artists to this new frontier of technology will be really interesting.
