I’m in love. In Jack Vettriano I’ve happened upon a visual artist whose formally untrained hand, Hopperesque utilization of light and smoldering love of women can well pause the breath.
I’m a sun worshipper—plus light sensitive. Natural and diffuse light are a preference in reading, working, photographing and living—I’d fare poorly in a home that faced north.
Sub digression: So oddly, my favorite painting in the whole wide world is Vincent van Gogh’s The Potato Eaters. A dark extinguishing painting where theatrics of shape aesthetically exceed those of light–a genre departure–I linger in it. Nothing has more caught me in impressionism than van Gogh’s renderings of peasant life.
back to light: Vettriano’s use of light also calls up my light tropisms impressively. It’s transformative. He relocates you and instigates a kind of motion picture ideation. Images move. Something’s alive, dynamic, imminent and atmospheric. Vettriano gets light and in so getting delivers aromatic paintings of abject retinal bliss.
I’m glad to learn of Vettriano’s work, I’m glad he was given a first painting set, and I’m glad this contemporary Scot gave up mining engineering to paint.