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Artist Andy Greenaway


The stare     He sees you. Searches your soul with his penetrating eyes. The the fountain of youth flows through his body. Rejuvenating his sinew and muscles. Time will change all that. But for now, he will assume the identity of Adonis
The stare - He sees you. Searches your soul with his penetrating eyes. The the fountain of youth flows through his body. Rejuvenating his sinew and muscles. Time will change all that. But for now, he will assume the identity of Adonis

I was born an artist. Painting and creating is all I’ve ever wanted to do. In school, I’d be berated by my teachers for my lack of interest in math and my obsession for that useless topic called art. When I was 16, I’d made my mind up. I wanted to go to University to study Fine Art. My art teacher, of all people, convinced my parents there was no money it. “Perhaps he should look at commercial art. Illustration, fabric design or, God forbid, advertising.” No, I thought. I want to go to Paris and be an artist. Even if that meant living off a stale loaf of bread a day, washed down with some cheap red wine. But alas, young dreams are quite often dashed against the rocks of parental influence. I ended up at the doorsteps of advertising.

Yet even that couldn’t keep fate away. While working in Hong Kong, I couldn’t pay my taxes. So I decided to paint - and hold an exhibition to earn the money I owed the government. The naysayers came out again. You can’t be an artist. It doesn’t work that way. Well I discovered it does. I sold 80% of my paintings, was served innumerable commissions – and paid off all my debts with some left over.


The Ballerina.     The woman is a ballerina. She's recovering from a difficult training session. One that didn't go so well. She fell a few times and has a few bruises that betray her efforts. "What could I have done better?" runs through her mind. Her fingers retracing her moves.
The Ballerina - The woman is a ballerina. She's recovering from a difficult training session. One that didn't go so well. She fell a few times and has a few bruises that betray her efforts. "What could I have done better?" runs through her mind. Her fingers retracing her moves.

From that day, I have kept my eye in, creating various forms of art, selling to people who liked it (and some who love it) and bathing in the joy of putting brush to canvas. Currently, I have gone back to the human form. It’s what intrigues us the most. There is more of a story in a painting when a figure takes centre stage. We connect with it. Try to unravel the meaning. Like looking into a mirror, we see ourselves in the painting.


The human form captivates us. It always tells a story. I like to use some of the techniques from the Renaissance Period. I start with dark colours and build to the lights. I like my paint to be thick and a little crusty. The form is always recognisable, but I leave the definition in a bit of blur, which adds to the painting's atmosphere and emotion.


Isolation     It's been a long time now. Too long. The lock-down is getting me way-down. I need people. I need touch. I need conversation. Let me wallow in my loneliness. And let's pray it will be over soon.
Isolation - It's been a long time now. Too long. The lock-down is getting me way-down. I need people. I need touch. I need conversation. Let me wallow in my loneliness. And let's pray it will be over soon.

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