Why is it that when an artist finally stumbles upon something distinct and that alchemy of voice, technique, and energy that’s unmistakably theirs, they’re suddenly expected to keep repeating it?
Is it because that style becomes a cash cow, a way to make the long, uncertain road of being an artist finally sustainable? Or is it because people want it of us and we oblige, afraid that if we shift, they’ll walk away?
Either way, it’s a trap disguised as success.
Don’t get me wrong, I understand the appeal of a signature style. It’s a visual handshake. It says, this is me. But when it starts to feel like a production line, something vital dies. I don’t paint to keep up with demand; I paint to keep discovering. To see what else I can make sense of, and where the next version of me might be hiding.
I’m happy to explore variations within a series. There’s value in diving deep into a theme until it reveals all it can. But I want to choose when and what I paint. Not because the market dictates it, but because curiosity does.
Replication might be good for business, but exploration is good for growth. And if I’m not growing, what’s the point of making art at all?