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BIOGRAPHY
Michael Stewart can’t remember a time when he wasn’t making pictures, usually drawing images straight from his imagination.
Born in England of Scots-Irish descent (with a little Spanish thrown in for flavour), he trained at Duncan of Jordanstone College of Art (now part of the University of Dundee) in Scotland, and graduated with an honours degree.
He then returned to the rolling hills and the woodlands of his native Derbyshire, in the middle of England, where he now lives.
After a successful career in commercial design, Michael has followed his destiny into the world of fine art.
Sometimes his paintings are whimsical, humorous and dreamlike, sometimes they’re sinister – and sometimes they’re all at once. He is often surprised by how people respond to his works, often finding that their own inner lives and ‘dreamscapes’ are reflected in his paintings.
He is equally at home working in acrylics or watercolour, and enjoys experimenting with other mediums, such as collage, fluorescent or metallic paints – even glitter - producing vibrantly coloured, often vigorously rendered works, full of energy.
STATEMENT
I’ve travelled around Europe, the Mediterranean, Scandinavia, and North Africa. But I feel that the biggest, certainly the most arduous journey has been the one inside my own head. My personal adventure has taken me along some dangerous paths, and to some very dangerous places, but I feel my reward is that, although I see the world through adult eyes, I am able once again to experience a child’s excitement and joy.
A person is made up of many facets. All of us, each day, play variations of the identities we’ve adopted: the person we tell ourselves we are. We’re one facet when we party, another when we work. All of us have the capacity for tenderness, for love, but equally can be angered by injustice or cruelty. My work and my life are a constant striving to reconcile these different elements.
As mentioned in my biography, my work is sometimes whimsical and humorous, sometimes dreamlike, sometimes sinister, and sometimes a mix. I know from experience that what appears on the surface to be mere whimsy can be a mask to hide pain: a contrivance to survive the fear or numbing drudgery of everyday existence. I sometimes wonder if everything we do – watching TV, quarrelling, making love, producing and enjoying art – is little more than a means to distract ourselves from the knowledge that we and everything we love will decay, and end. But then I remind myself that art is more than a distraction. It enriches us. The form the art takes is a conduit from my inner self, or soul, to yours – and from your soul to the souls of others who’ve also made that connection: those who’ve allowed themselves to tune into the same wavelength, if you like. We’re each on our own, but if you like we could hold hands part of the way.
So why not wear the mask? Fake it to make it. Pretended joy might just turn into the real thing, even on the darkest days. In the words of the old English pub song, ‘Enjoy yourself. It’s later than you think.’
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