J A N V . R O Y
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a v a i l a b l e w o r k :
s o l d w o r k :
A R T I S T S T A T E M E N T
I like to work with very little visual information. I spend a lot of time thinking, remembering, reading and listening to music. While I'm doing this, I'm subconsciously focusing on a moment that I want very badly to get back to. That's the beginning of the painting. I return by way of the canvas.
Much of the material I am currently working on derives from my yearly travels to Morocco. I am drawn to the raw beauty and mystery of the place. It is a country of abstract shapes, everything from the land, the buildings, the people and their dress to the few vehicles carrying goods. It is a complex, multi-layered culture. You can feel lost in it, or at home, a tension that is insinuated in my paintings.
I sketch where I go, rough sketches concentrating on shapes and composition, but it's only when I'm back in the studio and removed from the emotions, distractions, and complications of a place that I am able to zero in on what I want to convey. The information that is important to me is the feel of the area, which is why a finished painting can only come after many days, maybe weeks, in that atmosphere, taking in the sounds, light, and even smells. If I feel particularly uncomfortable in a place, that feeling is part of what I want to bring out in my work. All this information and recollection I take back to the studio, where I let the painting lead the way. I'm not interested in matching the colors I see, but matching the feelings I get.
I approach each painting as though I've never painted before, like I'm meeting someone for the first time.
My many hours of bike riding contribute to the abstract quality of my work. When I'm on a bike I feel disconnected from what I am seeing. The ground becomes a flat plain even when I'm climbing and things become two-dimensional and abstract, having little meaning. It puts things into an unconscious state. I often make mistakes as I paint, and I welcome them, for it helps the conversation progress between myself and the painting.
Much of the material I am currently working on derives from my yearly travels to Morocco. I am drawn to the raw beauty and mystery of the place. It is a country of abstract shapes, everything from the land, the buildings, the people and their dress to the few vehicles carrying goods. It is a complex, multi-layered culture. You can feel lost in it, or at home, a tension that is insinuated in my paintings.
I sketch where I go, rough sketches concentrating on shapes and composition, but it's only when I'm back in the studio and removed from the emotions, distractions, and complications of a place that I am able to zero in on what I want to convey. The information that is important to me is the feel of the area, which is why a finished painting can only come after many days, maybe weeks, in that atmosphere, taking in the sounds, light, and even smells. If I feel particularly uncomfortable in a place, that feeling is part of what I want to bring out in my work. All this information and recollection I take back to the studio, where I let the painting lead the way. I'm not interested in matching the colors I see, but matching the feelings I get.
I approach each painting as though I've never painted before, like I'm meeting someone for the first time.
My many hours of bike riding contribute to the abstract quality of my work. When I'm on a bike I feel disconnected from what I am seeing. The ground becomes a flat plain even when I'm climbing and things become two-dimensional and abstract, having little meaning. It puts things into an unconscious state. I often make mistakes as I paint, and I welcome them, for it helps the conversation progress between myself and the painting.
