Art Rabbithole

One of the most important aspects of being an artist, in my view, is exposure. Exposure shapes not only the way we see the world but also the way we respond to it creatively. My long years in advertising gave me this exposure in ways that, at the time, I didn’t fully recognize. Looking back now, I see how deeply those experiences prepared me for a life in fine art.

In advertising, no two days were the same. One week I might be working on a campaign for an automobile company, and the next for a jewellery brand. One day would demand a clean and modern corporate identity with a carefully thought-out colour scheme, while the next might require designing an annual report for a financial institution. That work was formal, structured, and precise. This constant shifting kept me moving, both creatively and mentally. It also put me alongside experts in those industries, people with knowledge and perspectives I could never have discovered on my own. In many ways, advertising was a crash course in entering other worlds, learning their logic and culture, and then turning those lessons into visual form.

When I moved more deeply into fine art, I realized just how much that background had given me. I had already trained myself to move between visual languages, to experiment with both direct and indirect expression, and to stay flexible in my approach. Most importantly, I had developed a sense of openness. Because I had worked in so many different styles and formats, I was never short of ideas. The world itself became a constant source of material, and every project—whether in advertising or later in art—taught me that there is always another way to see, another way to say, another way to make.

This background also made me comfortable with diversity in my art practice. I do not confine myself to a single style, and sometimes that has created interesting reactions. A few years ago, I mounted a retrospective exhibition. Visitors were surprised by the range of works—they assumed the paintings must have been created by several different artists. They found it hard to believe that one person could create such varied bodies of work. Their reaction revealed something I have often observed in the art world: the expectation that an artist should have a “signature style,” something consistent and recognizable that becomes their brand.

While I understand the value of that approach, especially for recognition and marketability, I cannot work that way. My art practice is about exploration and authenticity. Repeating one style over and over feels dishonest to my experience of the world. Life is varied, shifting, and unpredictable. Why should art be any less so? For me, variety is not a weakness or a lack of identity. It is my identity. It comes directly from a life shaped by curiosity, exposure, and a willingness to embrace change.

Art, after all, is not about confinement but about freedom. For me, the true signature of an artist is not about sticking to one visual formula. It is about staying honest to the journey itself, wherever it may lead.