Flea markets are dangerous places for someone who paints still lifes. I rarely come home empty-handed.
I never really know what I am looking for until I see it. A small figurine, an odd bottle, a piece of fabric, sometimes something I would never have thought of putting into a painting.
I am not particularly interested in whether an object is valuable. Quite the opposite, perhaps. I like things that have already had a life somewhere else. A scratch, a worn edge, or a slightly peculiar shape often makes them more interesting.
Some finds go straight into a setup. Others sit around the studio for months, occasionally years, collecting dust, before suddenly finding their place in a painting.
Sometimes the object I want isn’t at the flea market at all. It is hiding in someone else’s painting. If getting hold of the original is out of the question, I have been known to reach for the modeling clay
I call it collecting reference material. Others might call it bringing too much stuff home.
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