Paintings
Certain works are currently available to buy! Visit my Purchase page to view available works.
Where words fail, paint prevails.
Painting is my first love. In this section, I’ve selected works from my two favourite series, August Girls (2021) and Interior Memories (2019-Present). Both series are a look into my most private of feelings, things I cannot communicate with words.
August Girls (2021), below
I made this series from 6 months’ worth of life class studies. Over 2019-2021, I frequented Dulwich and Waterloo life classes taught in crowded basements and outdoor sheds. I was particularly taken by one model, Simone, who is the subject of Delight, Ex Utero and Amnion. Once covid restrictions loosened, I began hosting my own ‘life classes’ in my father’s dilapidated home office with my closest friends as my models. I wanted to give them the experience of being a muse, being the centre of someone’s attention. Albufera is an imitation of my friend Mina, Confession Phoebe, and Fallopian Intisar and Jada. These are the only paintings I have made to date where I let my hand dictate my heart. I knew they were finished when I sensed an end. That was the only sign.
This collection is currently being shown at Gateway Gallery’s “Woman: Whole Beauty” Show and pieces are available to purchase!
Interior Memories (2019 - Present), below
Taken by the concept of 17th Century of Dutch ‘conversation pieces’, I began collating reference images of my friends and my then-boyfriend’s family. Of memories that felt private and domestic. My goal with Interior Memories was to stitch some sort of quilt of my youth onto canvasses. This was a time in my life when I listened to Mura Masa’s R.Y.C album a great deal and had just discovered that I was, in fact, at the bottom of my class at Westminster School. Between the ages of 16 and 18, I kind of felt like the worst person on the planet. There was no reason for it. Just a pathological fear that I was a perverted, horrible young girl masquerading as a friend to the world. I have since learnt that this is quite a normal stage for high-achieving teenagers to go through.
My newest piece, Is It Cake? (2024), was a commissioned painting by a new friend in my life, Ella. She had seen Mid Morning (below) hanging in my dorm room and was left wanting for her own family portrait. More eclectic and busy than my other works, Is It Cake? blends 10 reference photos from her home - her pets, her family living room, her siblings as children, a Jane Fonda home workout tape - into one scene. It lives in her father’s house, right above her bedframe and is my first commissioned painting. As an extra thanks, Ella took me out to a ramen dinner after I delivered her painting in brown butcher paper. It was a small act, but I fondly remember the 40 minutes we spent in Ramen Kowa eating edamame and pork gyoza, swapping stories about our summers and wondering how close we might become in the years ahead of us.
A Quick Aside - What does my process look like?
I almost always start by collating reference images into one composition on Procreate, then test out different colour schemes by using a blocking technique on the app. For Is It Cake? I landed on pink and green - colours I would describe Ella by. Then comes time to prime my canvas (I always use clear or white gesso) and sketch out my composition. When priming, I use a flat wooden scraper to remove excess gesso. It’s important to prime raw canvas, since without it your canvas will absorb your paint, resulting in a loss of vibrancy and brilliance. The point of priming is to create that protective layer, and also to minimize the texture of raw canvas.
I always sketch in orange pencil, since using graphite requires fixative and makes for quite a murky line when you introduce paint. I find that orange is a neutral tone that is easily drowned out, which is good: you don’t want pencil marks to appear beneath your paint. In this case, I covered the canvas with an even light pink wash, then began the layering process to build up vibrancy and opacity. Applying thick base layers is a huge risk, because it makes your paint more prone to cracking and creates an uneven surface. The point of an underpainting is to neutralize the white gesso, since you don’t want bright white shining through your paint. Perceptible gesso is a dead giveaway of your sophistication - or lack thereof - as a painter.
I generally avoid using small round brushes, since I rely on my elbow and forearm over finicky wrist movements to direct my brushstroke. My preference is always a large flat brush, angled or straight. I spend about 20% of a work session actually painting, and the other 80% comparing marks on my canvas against my reference. This is arguably the most important part of painting - constantly checking your work against your reference. It allows you to assess in real-time how successful your imitations are.
In the latest stages of my process, I do turn to smaller brushes to fully render the most detailed parts of my paintings, using a mahl stick to steady my wrist as my fingers get to work. I always seal my paintings with two or three layers of liquin, a drying medium that protects paint from fading and cracking over time. Generally, I incorporate a small amount of an oil colour (in this case, I used a pea-sized amount of burnt umber) into my liquin before applying. I find that toning the canvas in this way helps bring all the colours together, creating cohesion in my colour scheme.
Mid Morning (2023) an homage to my family before my sister and I were born, when my parents were still in love. In it, my two kid-brothers, my parents, aunt, and grandmother eat breakfast at our old house in Ibiza. I chose to include my cat, Toby, as a representation - a stand-in - for myself in the scene. I never saw my parents in love, so I was not a witness to them falling out of love, either. It all happened before I was conscious, really. And in the word - falling - either in, or out, is the implication of a misstep, a downward flight. I choose not to see love in this way. To me, it is an ascension, or, a stairway (and yes, one that you may always climb down)… but crucially, there is no fall. Not to me. I prefer to believe that the directional force of love is forward and upward.
This was a painting I had to start, then scrap, then restart. Working with raw linen, I confused a primer coat with an underpainting coat, and mistakenly drenched my canvas in linseed oil, which seeped through the back of the material. Humiliated, I tried to cover up my mistake - but all of my peers already knew my secret (an enormous vertical grease stain spanning the studio wall). My second attempt is the one shown above. The first — somewhere in a chemical waste bin.
I painted Voyeur (2022) in my first few months at college while listening to audio files of my therapy sessions. It depicts my childhood cat, Toby, watching a nature documentary with me in my brother’s room. My cat Toby is now eleven years old and I affectionately call him my ‘lifecat’, since I had to fall into a coma in order to get him. Neither of my parents wanted a cat - we already had a dog, and they didn’t want greedy children - and I, age 8, begged and pleaded and made various powerpoints lobbying my proposal. I presented my research, and to my disdain, my parents wagged their finger at me. I knew better than to ask again. I gave up the dream.
In February 2013, when I was awoken from my coma for the third time (the first two times I did not recognize anyone) I looked my mother in the eyes and the first thing out of my mouth was a hoarse croak, requesting a chocolate milkshake. They knew then that I had come-to. To my surprise, my reward for waking up was both a milkshake AND a kitten - it turns out my father had whispered in my ear some days before, if you wake up, I’ll get you a cat. Clearly, it did the job. Hallelujah.
Voyeur was also the first piece I painted on unprimed canvas roll and found a real challenge in trying to stretch my finished work onto a backing myself. I armed myself with a nail gun and wrestled my own artwork for well over an hour in the process. Funnily enough, making the backing for Voyeur was also my introduction into woodworking.
Interior Memories was a series that I thought had come to a close with Zafir’s Kitchen (2021). It is a loving portrait of Yasmeen - my teenaged boyfriend’s mother, a half-Japanese half-Indian matriarch who measured just over 5ft. In the reference photo, dated as a Tuesday in January, she’s preparing a beef-cheek biryani supper for us. If my memory doesn’t deceive me, I recall Zaki and Farah playing Legend of Zelda two rooms over as she chopped, peeled and stewed. Over the last years of my adolescence, I grew extremely attached to Yasmeen, and I believe I may have acted as a sort of surrogate daughter for her. It was a part that I was honored to play: her sons loved and respected her, although I always felt her yearning for familial, female connection. Someone to acknowledge her as a woman before a mother. And so I did.
In the Cube (2020) was a piece I worked on silently in my bedroom over covid. A 2am portrait of my teenaged friends, during a night of heavy drinking and other illegal things. Alex, Anastasia, Zaki, Celest, Solomon. My goal was to try and paint informally, relying on a low angle to communicate the feeling that the viewer is sitting down with the subjects. That they are part of the scene. It was my first attempt at implying ‘authorial intrusion’ in my work, or at least… my first attempt of implying what I understood authorial intrusion might mean. This piece was also the birthplace of an ongoing motif of chess in my work. As for those friends… contact with this group has slowly faded away as time marches on.
Ronald’s Road (2019) was the first truly large painting I’ve made, measuring at 60x40”. Zaki playing piano in the small extension of the family living room, behind the couch, as his cat stared back at me. It took me just over a month to finish, and I gifted it to Yasmeen, a few weeks later as a sort of condolence for their family tomcat’s passing. I believe it still hangs above their fireplace, although I completely removed myself from their lives a few years ago, so I wouldn’t fault them if they have by now taken it down.