Stephen Nichol

I’ll spend a lifetime trying to fully understand myself, likely to no avail. What I do know is that life is a temporary gift with no defined, innate purpose. Art, both as a maker and a viewer, grants me access to subjective truths that I can never fully put into words—though I do love to try. Painting has become my most coherent language, a way to articulate the indescribable.

My journey has been shaped by invisible forces, computer algorithms subtly dictating paths I might not have otherwise taken. My practice seeks to undo this, to return to a process of absurdly natural discovery—one that is intuitive, unpredictable, and deeply human. In this pursuit, painting becomes an act of self-exploration. The process is mysterious, a beautiful struggle in which every triumph is temporary. When one reaches a perceived summit, they feel invincible—until they realize there is always more to climb.

Painting pushes us to our greatest limits. Each piece reveals the inner workings of my being—the many fears that shatter and the few triumphant hopes that reassemble. I feel most myself when making, and what I show is a nakedness. There shouldn’t be a barrier between the artist and the work. This process is personal; it’s something ingrained within me, something that demands to be externalized. And yet, once the work exists beyond me, it becomes its own entity. What a viewer sees and what they take from my work is their own journey.

Paintings make life worth living. They inspire, they challenge, they create a bridge between past and present. Through them, we converse with those who died centuries ago, engaging in dialogues that transcend time. This is especially vital in a world where all things seem fleeting, where memory is short and attention even shorter. Common language often fails to foster mutual understanding; painting, in contrast, operates as a shared slow burn.

The pieces shown in this exhibition inevitably participate in that crucial dialogue. They are both records of the present moment and ongoing conversations for the future. It’s imperative that my work says something— all work must say something. Otherwise, we take it all for granted. Not everyone will enter the back rooms where reality is rewritten, but through making, we all carve out voices that deserve to be heard. In seeing, we listen. In thinking, we may not fully understand the artist, but we’ll undoubtedly come to understand more about ourselves.

Exhibition galleries are full of potential conversations. Most visitors spend only a few seconds looking—small talk, something we all endure. But every so often, an artwork demands more. Some conversations stay with us forever, shifting our worldview, lifting us up, warning us, making us feel seen or even repulsed. The paintings in this exhibition represent the most significant developments in my ongoing exploration of self and visual language. In making them, I spoke with myself; now, I let them have external conversations. Only time will tell if they are fruitful for others, but the pursuit continues.