Come and Look With Me

For a long time, I thought finding subjects to paint meant looking for something new. I’d arrange still lifes, collect interesting objects and search for compositions that felt visually appealing. Sometimes they worked, but often I found myself admiring the painting more than feeling connected to it.

Lately, something has shifted.

I’ve realised the subjects I keep returning to aren’t new at all. They’re the things that have quietly become part of my everyday life. A favourite jug, a plant on the windowsill or a glass with a few cuttings from the garden. The familiar things that sit unnoticed until something makes me look again.

These aren’t extraordinary objects, but they carry something that can’t be arranged or bought. They hold memories, routines and the feeling of home. The more I paint them, the more I realise I’m not really painting the objects themselves. I’m painting my relationship with them.

My recent painting, Gathered, brought this into focus for me. The three little jugs have been with me for years. I know their weight, the small chips in their glaze and the memories they hold. Placing them together didn’t feel like arranging a still life. It felt more like spending time with familiar companions. That realisation has changed the way I think about painting.

Instead of asking, What should I paint next?, I’m beginning to ask, What have I noticed today? It feels like a gentler question. A more honest one.

I’ve also come to realise that this may be one of the quiet gifts of art. A painting isn’t simply an image of an object; it’s an invitation to see what the artist noticed. For a few moments we’re invited into another person’s way of looking at the world. And perhaps, when we return to our own homes, we notice something we might otherwise have walked past, a favourite cup, the afternoon light across a table, a vase of flowers that suddenly feels worthy of a second glance.

To me, that’s one of the profound things about painting. It gently changes the way we see.

Perhaps that’s what painting is teaching me, not to search further afield, but to pay closer attention to the world that’s already around me. Because beauty isn’t always found in extraordinary places. Sometimes it’s been sitting quietly on the kitchen shelf all along.