My fixation on explorers may be wearing off. Still, this began as a fairly detailed portrait of a young Ernest Shackleton. But I’m really not comfortable with portraits – it feels rude, like staring directly into a stranger’s eyes for far too long. So I suppose I started pushing him back, under layers of hectic colour, til his face was almost completely abstracted.
Acrylic on canvas, 16"x20".
My love of explorers isn’t completely pure; it’s not a sincere admiration of their achievements. It’s really a fascination with the contrast between their near-superhuman accomplishments and their painfully ordinary weaknesses. Like Shackleton: hailed as an heroic leader for keeping his team going in horrible circumstances, but chose men to join his polar expeditions on the basis that he ‘liked the look of them’ rather than their technical skills. Set various records and was awarded a knighthood for his explorations, but was obsessed with money and attempted many unsuccessful business schemes, including a run of collectible Antarctic-themed postage stamps. Had a serious heart condition but repeatedly refused treatment, even getting into an argument with his doctor about changing his lifestyle minutes before suffering a fatal heart attack.