Speed has never been the goal. If anything, I’ve been moving in the opposite direction: more detail, more intention. I’m constantly learning, and I’m trying to bring those lessons into the work, not rush past them. I’ve said this before, but I’m not aiming for realism. It’s not the point. What I try to capture is more emotional, more fluid. It’s like being out in nature. Your eyes can’t rest. Everything moves, even in stillness. Nature is definitely the master of organized chaos, and I’m just trying to follow its lead.
The move into my new studio felt like a reset. I didn’t just want more space to paint. I wanted more space to think. So I slowed everything down. I took on larger canvases, more layered ideas. It’s led to fewer paintings, but the ones I’ve finished feel more personal and complete than ever.
Sometimes I think about the early work and wish I had the skill I do now, back then. But those pieces mattered. They got me here. Every brushstroke taught me something I needed to learn.
There’s pressure too. When a new painting connects, people often reach out with powerful stories. They tell me what it meant to them, how it reminded them of someone, or brought back a memory. I want to give more of that. I feel it when I go a while without posting something new. But I also know this: in a fast, noisy world, honest work still matters. Real work made with care still matters. Maybe now more than ever.
I don’t speed up to meet demand. That’s the truth. And yes, it means I can’t always keep up with the needs of galleries or collectors. But I’ve been lucky. This world, more often than not, has been kind and patient. I hope that over time, the work adds up to something lasting. That it shows someone was here who truly loved the land, the skies, the trees, and tried to honour them.
These paintings are the fingerprints I’ll leave behind.
Success, for me, isn’t about numbers. It’s about what the work means to people. When someone shares a memory or feeling that a painting brings up for them, that’s what stays with me. I started painting during a difficult time in my life, when things felt like they were falling apart. It helped me get through it. And if that’s something my work has offered others too, then I’m grateful for that.
It’s important to be proud of what you do. And while speed matters in some professions, I don’t think art is one of them, or should be. Whether it’s painting, writing, dance, sculpture, music, architecture, poetry, or theatre. What lasts is never rushed. Most of what we still hold sacred today took years or even lifetimes to create.
And maybe that’s the point.
— Jeff
