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Jupigio-Artwork-Gallery
Rare - Unusual - Unforgettable
Creating The Book of Revelation
From Ancient Text to Paint, Metal and Sculpture
Before I could create The Book of Revelation, I had to work out how on earth I was going to contain it.
I began by reading. I made notes, pulled apart the imagery and listed everything I felt needed to find its way into the artwork. Very quickly, I realised that a single painting wasn't going to be enough.
The answer was to make a book.
Not an illustration of a book, but a physical sculptural book that could open and close — revealing darkness, destruction and chaos within, before closing to the brightness and metalwork of the Gates of Heaven.
But having the idea and knowing how to build it were two very different things.
What followed was an enormous process of planning. Sketch after sketch mapped the story and tested the composition. A tiny model made from paper, toothpicks and tapers helped me work out whether the structure could actually move. Canvas was bonded to plywood, oils were layered, steel and aluminium were cut and hand-beaten, stones were inlaid, and stained glass brought real light into the work.
Some things I could make myself. Others required skills I didn't possess, and I worked with craftspeople who could turn my designs into the structures and materials I needed.
This gallery takes you through that process.
Not what all those strange creatures, seals, eyes, angels and symbols mean — that comes later.
For now, this is about how I took one of the most extraordinary pieces of writing I had ever encountered and attempted to turn it into something you could actually stand in front of.
This is how I created The Book of Revelation.
The First Map
Before I could begin making anything, I needed to understand what I was trying to build.
I had read the Book of Revelation, filled my notes with the imagery and details I felt needed to be included, and then faced the challenge of somehow bringing all of that together into a single artwork.
This sketch was the first map.
It was here that the idea of creating the sculpture as an actual book began to take shape — something that could physically open and close. I was already thinking about contrast too: the darkness and destruction that would dominate the main painting against the brightness of the metalwork that would eventually form the closing Gates of Heaven.
Nothing was fixed yet. There were still countless practical problems to solve and ideas that would change along the way.
But this was the moment the Book of Revelation stopped being pages of notes and started becoming an artwork.
I had read the Book of Revelation, filled my notes with the imagery and details I felt needed to be included, and then faced the challenge of somehow bringing all of that together into a single artwork.
This sketch was the first map.
It was here that the idea of creating the sculpture as an actual book began to take shape — something that could physically open and close. I was already thinking about contrast too: the darkness and destruction that would dominate the main painting against the brightness of the metalwork that would eventually form the closing Gates of Heaven.
Nothing was fixed yet. There were still countless practical problems to solve and ideas that would change along the way.
But this was the moment the Book of Revelation stopped being pages of notes and started becoming an artwork.
Making The Idea Move
A drawing could show me what the sculpture might look like, but it couldn't tell me whether the idea would actually work.
So, during my lunch break in the school lab, I built this very rough 3D model from whatever I could get my hands on — paper, toothpicks and tapers.
It was deliberately simple. At this stage, I wasn't interested in making something beautiful; I needed to work out the mechanics. Could I create a sculpture in the form of a book that would physically open and close?
The answer was yes.
I already knew I wanted the finished piece to be housed in wood with a metal framework supporting the structure. Those elements were beyond my own expertise, so when the time came to create the final housing and frame, I commissioned a local craftsman to make them for me.
But before there was wood, metal or anything remotely resembling the finished artwork, there was this little paper model on a school laboratory bench.
And it worked.
So, during my lunch break in the school lab, I built this very rough 3D model from whatever I could get my hands on — paper, toothpicks and tapers.
It was deliberately simple. At this stage, I wasn't interested in making something beautiful; I needed to work out the mechanics. Could I create a sculpture in the form of a book that would physically open and close?
The answer was yes.
I already knew I wanted the finished piece to be housed in wood with a metal framework supporting the structure. Those elements were beyond my own expertise, so when the time came to create the final housing and frame, I commissioned a local craftsman to make them for me.
But before there was wood, metal or anything remotely resembling the finished artwork, there was this little paper model on a school laboratory bench.
And it worked.
Planning the Painting
Before any paint touches the canvas, I have to plan.
This is the first of twelve sketches I created to begin mapping the main painting. By this stage I had gathered the imagery from my research, but knowing what needed to be included was very different from knowing how I was going to fit it all together.
Each sketch allowed me to concentrate on a different area, working out scale, position and how one part of the story might flow into the next before committing anything to paint.
This first drawing begins with the area surrounding the Son of Man and the beginning of John's story.
These sketches weren't intended to be finished drawings. They were working plans — a place to test, move, question and solve the composition.
Over the next twelve sketches, you can watch the painting being mapped out before a single brushstroke was made.
This is the first of twelve sketches I created to begin mapping the main painting. By this stage I had gathered the imagery from my research, but knowing what needed to be included was very different from knowing how I was going to fit it all together.
Each sketch allowed me to concentrate on a different area, working out scale, position and how one part of the story might flow into the next before committing anything to paint.
This first drawing begins with the area surrounding the Son of Man and the beginning of John's story.
These sketches weren't intended to be finished drawings. They were working plans — a place to test, move, question and solve the composition.
Over the next twelve sketches, you can watch the painting being mapped out before a single brushstroke was made.
Designing The Elders
The next sketch began to explore the throne and the twenty-four elders surrounding it.
I spent a long time thinking about how I wanted these figures to look. Simply painting twenty-four elderly human beings didn't feel right. I wanted them to appear ancient in a much deeper sense — as though they belonged to the earth itself and had existed far beyond an ordinary human lifetime.
My early ideas began moving towards figures formed from rock, almost golem-like in appearance. I was thinking about crystals and diamonds, created deep within the earth over immense periods of time, and the sense that something so ancient might hold secrets we could never know.
This sketch was where I began testing how that idea might work visually.
The deeper meaning behind these strange elders comes later. For now, this was another piece of the painting beginning to find its form.
I spent a long time thinking about how I wanted these figures to look. Simply painting twenty-four elderly human beings didn't feel right. I wanted them to appear ancient in a much deeper sense — as though they belonged to the earth itself and had existed far beyond an ordinary human lifetime.
My early ideas began moving towards figures formed from rock, almost golem-like in appearance. I was thinking about crystals and diamonds, created deep within the earth over immense periods of time, and the sense that something so ancient might hold secrets we could never know.
This sketch was where I began testing how that idea might work visually.
The deeper meaning behind these strange elders comes later. For now, this was another piece of the painting beginning to find its form.
Planning the Seventh Seal
This next sketch begins to map out the opening of the seventh seal, which would eventually become part of the large central painting.
At this stage, I was still concerned with composition rather than finished detail — deciding how these enormous events could occupy the same painted world without each section becoming isolated from the next.
That was one of the challenges throughout this painting. Revelation contains so much imagery that I needed to find ways of allowing one vision to lead into another while still creating a single, coherent artwork.
Here, the seventh seal was beginning to find its place within that larger plan.
At this stage, I was still concerned with composition rather than finished detail — deciding how these enormous events could occupy the same painted world without each section becoming isolated from the next.
That was one of the challenges throughout this painting. Revelation contains so much imagery that I needed to find ways of allowing one vision to lead into another while still creating a single, coherent artwork.
Here, the seventh seal was beginning to find its place within that larger plan.
Finding the Beast
This next sketch was about working out how the beast would inhabit the central painting.
I wasn't simply trying to decide what the beast should look like. I was playing with its shape, position and movement across the canvas — how it might emerge through the landscape and become part of the action rather than appearing as a separate, static figure.
The pit and the volcanoes were also beginning to take shape around it, helping me explore how the different elements could flow together.
At this stage, nothing was fixed. This was exactly what these thirteen sketches were for: experimenting on paper before committing the ideas to canvas.
The beast was beginning to move.
I wasn't simply trying to decide what the beast should look like. I was playing with its shape, position and movement across the canvas — how it might emerge through the landscape and become part of the action rather than appearing as a separate, static figure.
The pit and the volcanoes were also beginning to take shape around it, helping me explore how the different elements could flow together.
At this stage, nothing was fixed. This was exactly what these thirteen sketches were for: experimenting on paper before committing the ideas to canvas.
The beast was beginning to move.
Expanding the Story
With the main painting already carrying so much of the early narrative, I began designing the painted panels that would become part of the Gates.
These gave me additional space to continue the story and, inevitably, I found ways of squeezing even more imagery into them.
The central painting would contain the beginning of John’s story, the throne, the seventh seal and the events unleashed from within it. The two additional painted panels allowed the narrative to continue beyond this, eventually incorporating imagery including God’s winepress and Babylon.
At this stage, though, I was still drawing — working out how to divide such an enormous and complicated story across the different surfaces without losing the sense that they all belonged to one artwork.
The deeper meaning of everything contained within these panels comes later in the Journal. For now, I was simply finding somewhere for it all to live.
These gave me additional space to continue the story and, inevitably, I found ways of squeezing even more imagery into them.
The central painting would contain the beginning of John’s story, the throne, the seventh seal and the events unleashed from within it. The two additional painted panels allowed the narrative to continue beyond this, eventually incorporating imagery including God’s winepress and Babylon.
At this stage, though, I was still drawing — working out how to divide such an enormous and complicated story across the different surfaces without losing the sense that they all belonged to one artwork.
The deeper meaning of everything contained within these panels comes later in the Journal. For now, I was simply finding somewhere for it all to live.
Painting with Light
This sketch began the design for the sixth seal and my interpretation of the blood moon and blackened sun.
I knew quite early that I didn't want to create this entirely with paint. The whole sculpture plays with contrasts between light and darkness, and stained glass gave me an opportunity to make that contrast physical — allowing actual light to become part of the artwork.
There was something particularly fitting about using glass for the sun and moon: one associated with light, the other with darkness, brought together within the same illuminated piece.
I designed the stained-glass composition, but making it required skills beyond my own. I commissioned a very talented glass artist to take my design and recreate it in glass for the finished sculpture.
This was another point where the artwork began to move beyond painting. Different materials could now do things that paint alone couldn't — in this case, allowing the changing light around the sculpture to become part of what the viewer sees.
The meaning of the blood moon, blackened sun and the events of the sixth seal I'll leave for the Journal.
I knew quite early that I didn't want to create this entirely with paint. The whole sculpture plays with contrasts between light and darkness, and stained glass gave me an opportunity to make that contrast physical — allowing actual light to become part of the artwork.
There was something particularly fitting about using glass for the sun and moon: one associated with light, the other with darkness, brought together within the same illuminated piece.
I designed the stained-glass composition, but making it required skills beyond my own. I commissioned a very talented glass artist to take my design and recreate it in glass for the finished sculpture.
This was another point where the artwork began to move beyond painting. Different materials could now do things that paint alone couldn't — in this case, allowing the changing light around the sculpture to become part of what the viewer sees.
The meaning of the blood moon, blackened sun and the events of the sixth seal I'll leave for the Journal.
The Seven Candlesticks
This next sketch began working out how I would represent the seven churches through the seven candlesticks.
Rather than treating them as repeated identical forms, I wanted to think about each one individually and how the gifts bestowed upon the churches could become part of their design.
This meant another stage of experimenting — deciding how much information I could incorporate while still allowing the seven candlesticks to work together visually as a group.
At this point they were still ideas on paper, but their individual identities and the details they would eventually carry were beginning to emerge.
Exactly what each candlestick represents, and the significance of the gifts associated with each church, I’ll explore properly in the Journal.
Rather than treating them as repeated identical forms, I wanted to think about each one individually and how the gifts bestowed upon the churches could become part of their design.
This meant another stage of experimenting — deciding how much information I could incorporate while still allowing the seven candlesticks to work together visually as a group.
At this point they were still ideas on paper, but their individual identities and the details they would eventually carry were beginning to emerge.
Exactly what each candlestick represents, and the significance of the gifts associated with each church, I’ll explore properly in the Journal.
Angels and the Tree of Life
This next sketch turns to the Gates of Heaven and begins planning the twelve panels that would eventually form part of their structure.
Here I was experimenting with the design of the angels for each of the twelve panels, working out how they would sit within the overall framework of the gates and how the repeated forms could work together without simply becoming identical copies.
The same sketch also contains my early design ideas for the Tree of Life, allowing another important element of the finished work to begin taking shape.
By now, the drawings were doing more than planning a painting. I was designing individual components that would eventually have to come together in paint, metal and three-dimensional form.
The significance of the twelve panels, the angels and the Tree of Life will be explored properly in the Journal. Here, they were still designs waiting to be made.
Here I was experimenting with the design of the angels for each of the twelve panels, working out how they would sit within the overall framework of the gates and how the repeated forms could work together without simply becoming identical copies.
The same sketch also contains my early design ideas for the Tree of Life, allowing another important element of the finished work to begin taking shape.
By now, the drawings were doing more than planning a painting. I was designing individual components that would eventually have to come together in paint, metal and three-dimensional form.
The significance of the twelve panels, the angels and the Tree of Life will be explored properly in the Journal. Here, they were still designs waiting to be made.
Giving the Seals an Ancient Identity
This sketch explores the designs for the five metal seals representing the first five seals of Revelation.
I didn't want them simply to be five identical objects. Each needed its own design, so I began playing with different shapes and ancient spiritual ideas — cycles of life and rebirth, infinity, balance and the ouroboros, the snake consuming its own tail.
These ideas would form the outer metal surfaces of the seals. I wanted them to feel mysterious and incredibly old, almost as though they were ancient objects carrying a history of their own.
This page shows me experimenting freely with those possibilities before deciding what would eventually be translated into metal.
What each seal contains and how I interpreted the first five seals themselves is a story for the Journal. Here, I was designing the objects that would hold them.
I didn't want them simply to be five identical objects. Each needed its own design, so I began playing with different shapes and ancient spiritual ideas — cycles of life and rebirth, infinity, balance and the ouroboros, the snake consuming its own tail.
These ideas would form the outer metal surfaces of the seals. I wanted them to feel mysterious and incredibly old, almost as though they were ancient objects carrying a history of their own.
This page shows me experimenting freely with those possibilities before deciding what would eventually be translated into metal.
What each seal contains and how I interpreted the first five seals themselves is a story for the Journal. Here, I was designing the objects that would hold them.
Looking to Nature
Looking to Nature
This sketch explores some of my early ideas for the beasts, including the shape of the lion, the placement of the many eyes and, importantly, how I wanted the six wings to work.
I knew I didn't want to follow the more familiar interpretation of wings, so I began looking elsewhere for a form that felt right.
As so often happens in my work, nature provided the answer.
I found a seed head whose structure immediately caught my attention. The way its individual sections radiated from the centre gave me exactly the kind of shape and movement I had been searching for, and I began adapting its construction into my designs.
This sketch captures that moment of experimentation — taking something small and organic from the natural world and allowing it to influence the form of something altogether more extraordinary.
Why I chose to move away from the traditional imagery, and what these creatures eventually became, belongs in the Journal.
This sketch explores some of my early ideas for the beasts, including the shape of the lion, the placement of the many eyes and, importantly, how I wanted the six wings to work.
I knew I didn't want to follow the more familiar interpretation of wings, so I began looking elsewhere for a form that felt right.
As so often happens in my work, nature provided the answer.
I found a seed head whose structure immediately caught my attention. The way its individual sections radiated from the centre gave me exactly the kind of shape and movement I had been searching for, and I began adapting its construction into my designs.
This sketch captures that moment of experimentation — taking something small and organic from the natural world and allowing it to influence the form of something altogether more extraordinary.
Why I chose to move away from the traditional imagery, and what these creatures eventually became, belongs in the Journal.
Innocence in Human Form
This next sketch explores how I wanted to represent the Lamb of God.
The Lamb represents Jesus, so rather than depicting him as a literal animal, I chose to return him to human form. I imagined him as a young child — a form that, for me, carried the innocence and purity traditionally associated with the lamb.
But he couldn't simply be an ordinary child.
I still wanted to retain the extraordinary imagery described in Revelation, incorporating the horns and eyes into my design. The result began to bring together the human and the symbolic, allowing me to create my own interpretation rather than reproduce the more familiar image of a lamb.
This sketch was where I began working out how that unusual combination might look.
Why the Lamb has those horns and eyes, and what they represent within Revelation, is something I'll explore much more deeply in the Journal.
The Lamb represents Jesus, so rather than depicting him as a literal animal, I chose to return him to human form. I imagined him as a young child — a form that, for me, carried the innocence and purity traditionally associated with the lamb.
But he couldn't simply be an ordinary child.
I still wanted to retain the extraordinary imagery described in Revelation, incorporating the horns and eyes into my design. The result began to bring together the human and the symbolic, allowing me to create my own interpretation rather than reproduce the more familiar image of a lamb.
This sketch was where I began working out how that unusual combination might look.
Why the Lamb has those horns and eyes, and what they represent within Revelation, is something I'll explore much more deeply in the Journal.
Like Pieces of a Jigsaw
This is a more detailed development sketch for the painted panels of the Gates.
By now, many of the individual elements had already been designed. The challenge was finding a place for everything. I began arranging the imagery across the panels almost like pieces of a jigsaw, adjusting scale and position until the different parts began to work together.
With so much of the Book of Revelation still to accommodate, every available space mattered. One image had to lead into another without the panels becoming a collection of disconnected scenes.
This sketch shows the composition becoming much more resolved — the earlier individual ideas were finally beginning to come together as one continuous piece.
What all those individual elements mean can wait for the Journal. Here, the puzzle was simply how to make them all fit.
By now, many of the individual elements had already been designed. The challenge was finding a place for everything. I began arranging the imagery across the panels almost like pieces of a jigsaw, adjusting scale and position until the different parts began to work together.
With so much of the Book of Revelation still to accommodate, every available space mattered. One image had to lead into another without the panels becoming a collection of disconnected scenes.
This sketch shows the composition becoming much more resolved — the earlier individual ideas were finally beginning to come together as one continuous piece.
What all those individual elements mean can wait for the Journal. Here, the puzzle was simply how to make them all fit.
From Sketchbook to Canvas
After all the reading, notes and preparatory sketches, it was finally time to begin painting.
But even before the oils could come out, the surface itself had to be constructed.
I glued canvas onto plywood to give the painting the rigidity it would need as part of the larger sculpture. Everything was properly treated and prepared for oil paint, and the plywood was painted to help prevent it from warping.
These are the practical things that have to be considered when you start combining very different materials. It isn't enough for something to look right — it has to work structurally too.
Only then could I begin the first layer of oils.
At this stage I was still mapping rather than detailing, transferring the composition from my sketches and blocking out the areas where the different parts of the story would eventually unfold.
After existing for so long in notes and drawings, the Book of Revelation was finally beginning to appear on the surface of the actual artwork.
But even before the oils could come out, the surface itself had to be constructed.
I glued canvas onto plywood to give the painting the rigidity it would need as part of the larger sculpture. Everything was properly treated and prepared for oil paint, and the plywood was painted to help prevent it from warping.
These are the practical things that have to be considered when you start combining very different materials. It isn't enough for something to look right — it has to work structurally too.
Only then could I begin the first layer of oils.
At this stage I was still mapping rather than detailing, transferring the composition from my sketches and blocking out the areas where the different parts of the story would eventually unfold.
After existing for so long in notes and drawings, the Book of Revelation was finally beginning to appear on the surface of the actual artwork.
The Story Takes Its Place
With the first layers underway, all three painted panels could now begin to work together.
Here, the imagery has been mapped across each surface, establishing where the different parts of the story would sit before I began building the detail through further layers of oil paint.
This was an important stage because I could finally see the composition as a whole rather than as individual sketches. Ideas that had previously existed on separate sheets of paper were now sitting alongside one another, and I could judge whether the balance, scale and flow between the three panels actually worked.
There was still a huge amount of painting ahead, but the jigsaw was finally in place.
Now I could start bringing it to life.
Here, the imagery has been mapped across each surface, establishing where the different parts of the story would sit before I began building the detail through further layers of oil paint.
This was an important stage because I could finally see the composition as a whole rather than as individual sketches. Ideas that had previously existed on separate sheets of paper were now sitting alongside one another, and I could judge whether the balance, scale and flow between the three panels actually worked.
There was still a huge amount of painting ahead, but the jigsaw was finally in place.
Now I could start bringing it to life.
From Metal to Painting
With the outer designs of the five seals already planned, I could now begin creating what would be revealed within them.
These are the first five seals, containing my painted interpretations of the Four Horsemen and the martyrs. Each was created as an individual artwork, designed to sit within the metal forms I had developed earlier.
This was where two very different parts of my practice began coming together — the harder, ancient-looking metal exterior surrounding the much more detailed painted imagery within.
There is a great deal more to say about each Horseman, the martyrs and the choices I made when representing them, but those stories belong in the Journal.
For the Creation Gallery, this is another stage in the process: the objects I had once drawn on paper were becoming real.
These are the first five seals, containing my painted interpretations of the Four Horsemen and the martyrs. Each was created as an individual artwork, designed to sit within the metal forms I had developed earlier.
This was where two very different parts of my practice began coming together — the harder, ancient-looking metal exterior surrounding the much more detailed painted imagery within.
There is a great deal more to say about each Horseman, the martyrs and the choices I made when representing them, but those stories belong in the Journal.
For the Creation Gallery, this is another stage in the process: the objects I had once drawn on paper were becoming real.
From Drawing to Metal
The designs I had worked out on paper now had to be translated into something much more physical.
Each of the five outer seals was individually hand-beaten into steel, gradually forming the shapes and patterns I had developed in my earlier sketches. Stones were then inlaid into the metal, adding another material and texture to each piece.
This was slow, physical work and very different from painting. Steel doesn't respond like canvas — the design has to be persuaded into the surface through repeated working of the metal.
I wanted each seal to feel like an object in its own right, rather than simply a frame surrounding the painting within.
Seeing them finally emerge in steel was the point where those strange little designs in my sketchbook began to acquire weight, texture and permanence.
What the individual designs and stones represent I'll save for the Journal.
Each of the five outer seals was individually hand-beaten into steel, gradually forming the shapes and patterns I had developed in my earlier sketches. Stones were then inlaid into the metal, adding another material and texture to each piece.
This was slow, physical work and very different from painting. Steel doesn't respond like canvas — the design has to be persuaded into the surface through repeated working of the metal.
I wanted each seal to feel like an object in its own right, rather than simply a frame surrounding the painting within.
Seeing them finally emerge in steel was the point where those strange little designs in my sketchbook began to acquire weight, texture and permanence.
What the individual designs and stones represent I'll save for the Journal.
The Pearly Gates Take Shape
The twelve panels of the Pearly Gates now moved from my drawings into metal.
Each panel was individually cut before the designs were hand-repoussé, working the metal to raise and shape the imagery I had planned in my original sketches. Once the metalwork was complete, I painted into the panels, combining colour with the raised surfaces and texture of the metal.
Creating twelve individual panels was painstaking work, but they also needed to function as a complete set. Each had its own details while remaining part of the larger structure of the Gates.
This was one of those stages where the artwork really began to change character. What had started as a painting was becoming something much more sculptural — paint, metal and craftsmanship all beginning to meet.
The imagery contained within the twelve Gates, and why I designed them as I did, I'll explore later in the Journal.
Each panel was individually cut before the designs were hand-repoussé, working the metal to raise and shape the imagery I had planned in my original sketches. Once the metalwork was complete, I painted into the panels, combining colour with the raised surfaces and texture of the metal.
Creating twelve individual panels was painstaking work, but they also needed to function as a complete set. Each had its own details while remaining part of the larger structure of the Gates.
This was one of those stages where the artwork really began to change character. What had started as a painting was becoming something much more sculptural — paint, metal and craftsmanship all beginning to meet.
The imagery contained within the twelve Gates, and why I designed them as I did, I'll explore later in the Journal.
The Gates Come Together
The final pieces shown here are the two metal panels containing the Tree of Life.
Following the designs developed in my earlier sketches, I created the panels from aluminium, hand-beating the forms into the metal before adding the painted detail.
These panels sit opposite the two smaller painted panels and form another part of the Gates themselves. By this stage, the different disciplines I had been working with throughout the project were finally beginning to come together — oil painting, metalwork, repoussé and three-dimensional construction all becoming parts of the same structure.
What had once been a collection of drawings, notes and individual components was becoming the book I had imagined at the very beginning: an artwork that could physically open and close.
The Tree of Life has its own story and symbolism, but that belongs inside the Journal. Here, it was about turning another drawing into metal and bringing the Gates one step closer to completion.
Following the designs developed in my earlier sketches, I created the panels from aluminium, hand-beating the forms into the metal before adding the painted detail.
These panels sit opposite the two smaller painted panels and form another part of the Gates themselves. By this stage, the different disciplines I had been working with throughout the project were finally beginning to come together — oil painting, metalwork, repoussé and three-dimensional construction all becoming parts of the same structure.
What had once been a collection of drawings, notes and individual components was becoming the book I had imagined at the very beginning: an artwork that could physically open and close.
The Tree of Life has its own story and symbolism, but that belongs inside the Journal. Here, it was about turning another drawing into metal and bringing the Gates one step closer to completion.
Now Step Inside the Art
You’ve Seen How It Was Made. Now Discover Why.
A paper model became a structure. Sketches became paintings. Drawings were beaten into metal. Glass captured the light. And hundreds of individual decisions gradually became The Book of Revelation.
But throughout this gallery, I have deliberately left many questions unanswered.
Why does the Lamb of God appear as a child?
Why do my elders look as though they have grown from the earth?
Why did I reject familiar ideas of what wings should look like?
What is hidden within the seals?
Why these stones, these creatures, these eyes, these materials?
And what was I trying to say through all of it?
Because creating the artwork is only half of its story.
Now it's time to open it properly.
Continue to Inside The Book of Revelation and read the art — the imagery, symbolism, research and thinking behind what you have just watched me create.
Go behind the art. Step inside the art. Read the art.
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