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Creating Envy

The Painting That Wasn't Satisfied With What It Had

Envy began with a plan.

It didn't keep it.

And looking back, there is something wonderfully ironic about that.

Of all seven paintings, Envy became dissatisfied with what it already had.

The original composition gave me a perfectly workable beginning, but as I painted, I kept looking at it and wanting something different. Certain elements no longer felt strong enough. Others demanded more space. Ideas shifted, disappeared or were replaced as the painting gradually moved away from the version I had first imagined.

Envy, it seems, wanted what it didn't have.

That is one of the reasons I wanted these Creation Galleries to exist.

If you saw only the finished painting, you would never know about the other versions buried beneath it. You wouldn't see the decisions I reversed, the elements I sacrificed or the moments when I stood back and realised that something I had already spent hours painting simply wasn't going to survive.

My sketchbook gives me a starting point, not a contract.

Once I begin painting, I allow the work to question that original idea. Sometimes the changes are tiny. With Envy, some became fundamental to the composition itself.

And perhaps that is where the greatest irony lies.

I was creating a painting about comparison, wanting and looking towards something else, while repeatedly looking at my own painting and thinking:

I want something different.

So I changed it.

Again and again, until the painting stopped trying to become the Envy I had originally imagined and became the Envy you see today.

These twelve stages allow you to watch that transformation happen.

Don't worry yet about understanding why every figure, object or symbol eventually found its way into the finished work. Those answers belong in the Artist Journal.

Here, we're looking at something else.

The versions of Envy that existed before the final one survived.

Watch Envy Change

Start with the original sketch.

Then watch carefully.

Because this is not simply a painting acquiring colour and detail.

It changes its mind along the way.

When Envy Finally Stopped Wanting Something Else

Looking back through these stages, Envy has one of the most revealing journeys in the collection.

It didn't simply become more detailed.

It became a different painting.

There was a point when I could have continued with the composition I already had. Hours of work were sitting there in front of me. It worked.

But I knew it wasn't right.

So I painted over parts of it, changed the structure and allowed another version to emerge.

Perhaps there is something wonderfully appropriate about that.

For so much of its creation, Envy was never quite satisfied with what it had.

Neither was I.

I kept looking.

Questioning.

Comparing what existed with what I could see in my head.

Changing things until eventually there was nothing left that made me want another version.

Envy finally had enough.

The photographs in this gallery preserve all those earlier possibilities—the paintings beneath the painting that nobody looking at the finished work would ever know existed.

But you've now seen them.

You've watched Envy change its mind, lose parts of itself, rebuild and finally become the painting it is today.

What you haven't discovered here is why.

Why these particular figures survived.

Why the city became what it did.

Why there is ice.

Why Envy wears what it wears.

Why Kindness appears as it does.

Why the Devil is there.

Or what all the smaller details scattered throughout the finished painting are really saying.

Those answers don't belong in the Creation Gallery.

They belong in the Artist Journal.

You've watched Envy become itself.

Now Read Behind Envy →

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