Gillian Ayres asks, ‘why should painting be a bloody misery?’ – a question I often ask myself. Painting can be miserable, worrying, uncomfortable, painful, confident sapping and lowering of the spirits.

But on a good day it’s none of these things.

I hunt these days.

Then it can be wonderful, exciting, so engaging, so magical, so surprising, so instructive, so conversational, so free, so light and so joyous.

I am a representational painter. I paint things. Things that I choose, or things that choose me (I’m not really sure which). I need to deeply scrutinise the subject matter to understand it and to occupy it. I usually do this through drawing. I then try my best to respect and illuminate what I see and experience. Once I start painting, the painting itself begins to dictate its own presence and a conversation begins. I endeavour to listen to the painting’s distinct voice with my eyes. I am looking for a truth or a pictorial rightness that, when it emerges, can feel so loud and obvious, but sometimes this process may involve days or months of working and only be faint.

I have great respect for the infinite possibilities of paint… There are so many choices to make. Currently I am drawn to the resistance of working on board with the buttery, messy, slowness of oil paint. As I paint, I am always learning – longing for a deeper understanding of the elusive mysteries and tensions in painting. To know what I don’t yet know keeps me getting out of bed every day and it excites me to my core.

“Sophie was born into a large family on a farm in Hampshire. She worked for 20 years on building sites following her BA in Fine Art and has been actively painting since. Sophie has recently completed an MA in Painting at the RCA.”