Reflections on Realism: Capturing the Spirit of the Small Town
Reflections on Realism: Capturing the Spirit of the Small Town
Like many artists, my relationship with realism has evolved significantly over the years. When I look back at my career, I can clearly see how my style has shifted from an almost rigid hyper-realism to something more expressive, where brushstrokes and texture play a much bigger role. It is not that I have abandoned realism; far from it. I have simply found different ways to use it to capture not only what things look like, but how they feel.
In my early days, back in the late 1960s and early 70s, I was still searching for my artistic voice. The space race had captured my imagination, and I found myself drawn to precision and control. My paintings from that era were hard and metallic, utilizing masking tape and ruling pens to create straight edges. I worked with silver and deep blacks, giving works space-inspired titles like "Ugus" and "Ectivo." However, photography soon became a massive influence. I became fascinated by the artificial moments of family photos—the posed groups and unnaturally bright colors—leading to a series of large canvases that mimicked blown-up Kodak Instamatic prints.
Bootes
Ugus
Ectivo
As time went on, my approach began to loosen. I realized that realism didn't have to mean hiding the artist's hand. Today, while I still care deeply about accuracy, I pay much more attention to the paint itself. I want the texture and the brushwork to be part of the story, moving beyond a perfect replica of reality to capture the emotional truth of the scene.
My focus has always been drawn to the soul of South Africa, particularly the small towns in the Western Cape and the Karoo. I am fascinated by the buildings that most people walk past without a second glance. The old shops, the bioscopes, and the general dealer stores that have stood for decades hold a special allure for me. There is something profound about their quirks—the rusted tin roofs, the eccentric alterations owners have made over the years, and the old enamel signs advertising "Joko Tea" or "Coca-Cola." These humble structures are not just bricks and mortar; they are the backdrop of our collective memory.
A signature element of my work is the specific quality of light found in these regions. The light in the Karoo and Western Cape is harsh, bright, and incredibly clear. It creates sharp, luminous shadows that define the architecture in a way that is unique to this part of the world. It is quite different from the light seen in American Photorealism or European landscapes, and capturing that specific luminosity is essential to grounding the work in South Africa.
Buck and Barbara
Instamatic Family Group
Sea Point Sunbathers
Viewers often ask why there are never any people in my paintings. This is a deliberate choice. I want the buildings themselves to be “the portrait”. By removing figures of people, I create an eerily still, almost surreal quality that forces the viewer to focus on the architectural details. The empty verandas and silent shopfronts hint at the lives that have passed through them, allowing the viewer to imagine the stories held within those walls.
Ultimately, I view my work as a form of historical record. I started photographing these buildings in the early 1970s because I felt an urgent need to preserve their memory before modernization swept them away. Today, my paintings serve as a bridge for many people, especially South Africans living abroad. These images of "Algemene Handelaars" and corner cafes often strike a deep chord, acting as windows into a world that is slowly fading. I hope that through my work, people can see the beauty in these everyday places and appreciate the quiet, enduring stories of the South African landscape.
Alma Supply Store, Rosebank
Oaks Cafe, Hopefield
Delhi House, Landsdowne