What Makes a Line ‘Perfect’?

Some might wonder: what distinguishes a line as ‘perfect’?  Is it its straightness?  Its fluidity?  For me, it’s neither.  It’s about how that line speaks to you, the viewer, how it resonates with an emotion, a memory, or a moment.  The perfect line holds the power to stand alone yet convey a world of emotions and stories.  And the experience can be quite different for each and every one of us.

What are Edges in Drawing? The Power of Defining Spaces

The power of outlines and edges is profound. They define the shape of an object and its spatial relationship with its surroundings. It’s a view that stems from my deep-rooted love for patterns, shapes, and colours. In the vast spectrum of artistic expression, I’ve always felt that the way objects are outlined, and the way their edges interact with the space around them, creates a compelling narrative.

In art, minimalism isn’t about lack of detail or effort.  On the contrary, it’s about intentional reduction.  It’s about stripping away the non-essential elements to reveal the essential.  This minimalist approach is reflected in my choice of colours, lines, shapes, and even my tools.  For example, the use of Fabriano Artistico paper to Da Vinci acrylic brushes, each item I use is carefully chosen to aid in the creation of clean, crisp lines – a defining characteristic of my work.

Minimalism is an outcome of my relentless pursuit of simplicity.  It’s about saying more by using less.  It’s not the absence of something but rather the perfect amount of something.  When I paint, my focus is on outlines, edges, and patterns rather than volumes.  It’s the idea of capturing the essence of an object or a scene with the minimum of distraction.  A reduced palette of flat colours and defined lines helps me to convey my vision of the composition.

Now, you might wonder, “why minimalism?”  I’d have to say that the answer lies back in my early years in the 60’s when I became aware of the screen prints that were prevalent then.  At that time screen prints weren’t produced using photographic method, screens were hand cut or painted.  This meant you had to keep it simple; simple shapes and few colours because every extra colour meant an extra screen had to be produced.  Also all the colours were usually opaque inks and that meant all the colours were flat and even.  This style of work had enormous appeal for me and this is reflected in my paintings, although I have a much greater freedom in use of colour.  In 1969, I was the art director for the Bradford Arts Festival and one of the exhibitions I organised was a poster art show.  I became immersed in this style as I selected posters for the exhibition and again this pushed my artistic taste towards the simple.  In addition, in my previous career, I was a scientist.  In the world of science, we constantly look for patterns and structures, and we often boil down complex entities to their most basic, comprehensible forms.  Similarly, I use minimalistic elements to bring order and clarity to my art, unconsciously mirroring my scientific training.

Minimalistic art can be potent, sparking introspection and making viewers engage in a dialogue with the piece.  Each line, each block of colour, and each form in my work is an invitation for viewers to interpret and assign their own meanings.  It’s not just about viewing a piece of art but experiencing it.  The beauty of minimalism lives in this interaction, where the viewer becomes a part of the art.

If you’ve seen my work, it may not surprise you to learn that I’m an admirer of the works of great artists such as David Hockney, Patrick Caulfield, Egon Schiele, Charles Sheeler, and Charles Demuth. My art also carries subconscious echoes of their influence.  My pieces range from figurative to abstract, but the thread that binds them all together is the aesthetic feeling they leave the viewer with, rather than specific thematic content.