My relationship with oil painting began long before I understood it as a vocation. As a child, I learned to paint from my father, an oil painter who approached his work with quiet discipline and respect for materials. Those early years in his studio—watching him prepare canvases, mix pigments, and build layers with patience—formed the foundation of everything I do now.
I didn't realize it then, but I was learning more than technique. I was absorbing a philosophy: that painting is a practice, not a performance. That materials matter. That oil on linen isn't just a surface—it's a relationship between texture, permanence, and tradition.
The Studio as Classroom
My father's studio was a place of ritual. Linen canvases stretched and primed by hand. Pigments ground and mixed with care. Brushes cleaned meticulously after each session. There was no rushing, no shortcuts. He taught me that oil painting demands time—time for layers to dry, for colors to settle, for a composition to reveal itself.
I learned to see painting as a slow, deliberate process. Not something to be forced or hurried, but something to be lived with. A painting might sit on the easel for weeks, months even, while he considered the next move. That patience, that willingness to wait,did not became part of my own practice because I prefer alla prima technique which allows me to express myself fully and in the moment.
Oil on Linen: A Material Choice
Even now, I often work with oil on linen. It's not nostalgia—it's a conscious choice rooted in those early lessons. Linen has a tooth, a texture that holds paint differently than cotton or synthetic surfaces. It breathes. It ages with dignity. Oil paint on linen has a permanence that feels honest, grounded in centuries of tradition.
When I work on a linen canvas, I'm connecting to that lineage—not to replicate it, but to build on it. My father taught me to respect the material, to understand its limits and possibilities. That respect remains central to my work.
I also love working on archival art paper with watercolours and gouache but I will write about it in another blog.
From Tradition to Exploration
What my father gave me wasn't a style to imitate especially since we are so different painters and often we don’t understand each others work, but a foundation to build from came from him. His work was representational; mine has moved toward abstraction. He worked within established forms; I'm drawn to minimalism and open space. But the core principles remain: integrity of materials, patience in process, and a refusal to compromise for trends or commercial appeal.
A Practice, Not a Product
Looking back, I see how those childhood years shaped not just my technique, but my entire approach to being an artist. My father didn't teach me to paint for galleries or collectors. He taught me to paint because the work itself mattered. Because oil on linen, handled with care and intention, could hold something true.
For collectors and institutions looking for work that values substance over trends, that's the foundation I offer: a practice built on traditional training, material integrity, and a commitment to authentic exploration.