For a while now I've been photographing the intriguing artwork by my friend Henry Finney, a Wirral-based artist who explores themes of place, identity and storytelling. As I’ve had the pleasure of seeing Henry's artwork develop over the years since we studied fine art together, I thought it would be enjoyable for us both to feature my photos of his paintings and drawings alongside a Q&A with him. I hope you enjoy it…

Andrew: Hi Henry! So let’s start from the beginning - what's your earliest memory of drawing or painting?

Henry: Hello! Well, I’d say a singular memory is too difficult to recall. Drawing and painting were always around in one way or another. My parents had a lot of pictures on the living room wall like prints of Monet, L.S. Lowry or Seurat which I would like to look at when they were watching something boring on the TV. I’d find myself exploring them, imagining I was walking around as one of the figures myself. My father and grandfather were both architects too, so paper and drawing materials were always around for me to play with. Once adults around me realised that was what I liked to do I’d always get paints, crayons, pads or pastels for birthdays and Christmas.

‘Raven’ (2017), household paint on canvas, 50cm x 40cm

Do you remember what you liked about drawing and painting when you were younger?

I remember gravitating towards it over anything else. If I were in a waiting room with my mum and there was a choice between a box of toys or paper and pencils, I would always choose to draw. The appeal of using my imagination was too tempting to miss, even for a second. If I had some paper in front of me I would love the initial feeling of endless possibilities that drawing brought. I can remember, in some instances, running out of time just thinking about what to draw. Although more than often I’d draw the same things like cowboys, pirates, spaceships or superheroes. I also found it much more engaging to look at pictures in books and could never understand why they started to disappear the older you got. In my head, I thought that the pictures should get more interesting the older you got and the more ‘grown-up’ the books became the better the illustrations would become. This, combined with a difficulty in reading, gave me extra motivation in wanting to read and make images more than read and write words.

What do you enjoy about making art now?

The enjoyment of making art feels like it has changed with me. When I was younger and still in school, the enjoyment came from not having to do the conventional lessons, and through college and university it was being around others that shared a common interest. Now I still find enjoyment in that escape away from normal working life and being absorbed in the worlds I create, but there is also a pleasure in the practical elements too. Like everyone else, I’ve had deeply unsatisfying jobs that have just been a means to pay the bills. I can remember thinking “Why am I putting so much effort into this and complaining about not having time in my studio?” I then realised that I had to apply myself more vigorously. If I can make myself get up and go to a job that I don’t enjoy then I should be doing the same thing for my art. Since then, I’ve had the outlook that making art is sometimes hard work that needs the same level of commitment as any other work. If I can get up on one of my days off and apply myself even when I don’t feel inspired, I feel a deep sense of satisfaction and self-worth knowing that I have spent that time doing something creative.

Most of your work seems to show a place or structure - what is it that inspires you to make this type of work?

This stems from my interest in place and how we experience it as quite complex beings. I have always appreciated art that creates different worlds, from painting to photography and film. For me, the appeal of wanting to explore a place that has been completely constructed from someone’s imagination is too tempting to miss. It could be as a result of those early experiences of viewing the artwork on my living room wall, or the escape of science fiction and adventure films that I still enjoy watching today. With this urge I like to apply it to familiar settings, particularly suburban English scenes. Taking familiar imagery and pushing it into different realms is interesting to me because it can reveal the humanity in buildings or public spaces. In the UK, I feel that this is a particularly relevant today. For many of the people I share this country with, it’s not just an island with towns, cities and landscapes, it is a concept and an identity to be proud of. With this kind of thinking so abundant, I can’t help feeling that my work is in reaction to it a little. By perverting the quiet English suburbs a little, it helps me express the difficulty I have in identifying with them myself. For me, at this point in time, living in England is just as absurd as living in an imagined world anyway, so that’s what I want to paint.

‘Glooming’ (2018), household paint on canvas, 55cm x 55cm

How much of your work is based on reality and how much is imaginary? Do you ever create work from dreams?

Most of the subjects themselves are from reality, but will be open to what imagination and paint can achieve in constructing a sense of place. The light in my work will always be exaggerated to mimic evening or night, and natural elements like trees or clouds are opportunities to push the limits of colour, form and shape. My intention is to skew the reality in a scene so that the viewer is left somewhere in-between. In this way, I suppose they have a quality that is dreamlike. Not that I use dreams very often as inspiration - the effect that I sometimes strive for is much like the feeling you have when you visit a familiar place in a dream. It’s not quite right somehow and you’re not able to grasp why.

Do you have a favourite piece of work? What can you tell me about it?

A painting from about 10 years ago called ‘Creeper’ is still one that I like to look at again and again. It was one of a few painted on canvases that I had built as a way of trying to motivate myself when I was seriously lacking it. The scene itself is of a solitary building surrounded by tall trees (possibly Cyprus trees). It was inspired by a fleeting view from the window of the Eurostar train on the way back from a trip to Paris.

I can remember trying hard to represent it in a drawing again and again for months afterwards, without any joy. I had no hope initially of making it work as a painting, but it was one of those experiences where I let go of trying to control what I wanted and instead worked on instinct. I feel like it resulted in an honest and muted piece of work that captured a real sense of what I felt when I saw it. Not only this, but I can remember it giving me a shot of confidence at a time of self-doubt and low motivation. It’s not typical of my work now, but I hold it in fond regard for what it gave back to me.

You recently moved out of your studio space at The Royal Standard and set up a studio space at your home. How are you finding it?

The main thing about leaving that kind of organisation is not having that immediate dialogue with other artists. However with my family getting bigger, my time in there was becoming so limited that I might as well have been working from home. With things like social media, working from home is not as isolating as it perhaps once was, and you can still have that dialogue with others.

Henry’s old studio space at The Royal Standard.

Working from home also means that my family life can become mixed with studio work. Hopefully having memories of their dad painting will be pleasant ones for my children to have, particularly my son who is due to be born in April. I suppose I was always a little self-conscious of drawing and painting growing up because it wasn’t a typical thing other boys around me were doing. I liked football but was awful at playing it so I avoided it, and video games were good but just not my thing. Instead, I would go to pottery classes or draw and paint pictures in my bedroom. If my son is anything like me then having a studio at home will hopefully encourage him to feel good about exploring his creative side.

You have a daughter who is several years old - do you sometimes watch with curiosity how she paints and draws from an artist’s point of view?

Yes, without a doubt. She is three and still in the phase of things being very momentary and spontaneous. If she wants to paint she will just start and see where it takes her. This usually ends in total mess and disregard for the rules, but that’s because it’s still all an exploration without an end point. Every now and again though, she will be quiet and deeply focused on what she’s trying to do (draw a rainbow, colour in some flowers etc) which is amazing to see. You can’t help but smile as she wrestles with trying to make something come to life on the paper and the joy she expresses when she’s done it by herself. I suppose that feeling never leaves artists. If you don’t get the urge, even privately, to want to show everyone what you’ve made, I think that would be quite a sad thing.

You mentioned your father worked as an architect - do you think that has influenced your work?

The main concept that I picked up from my dad being an architect was the ability to appreciate great design and innovation. When you can view a piece of good architecture and identify the individual decisions and their outcomes, you can then apply it to anything creative like music, film and painting. This also helps you to be critical about your own work from early on. If you know why a piece of architecture is not good, not just aesthetically but practically and conceptually too, you can then apply the same principal to the way you work. Why have I chosen this subject? Is this colour really what I want? Why is this mark more interesting than that one? Does this painting say what I want, or does it say something different, something better? Once this way of thinking has been opened to you, there is no way of getting back.

What are you working on now?

At the moment I have finished a couple of pieces that are scenes from a public park. Unusually for me they have figures in them and it’s been quite enjoyable to play with what additional elements this brings. I’ve focused on using them to portray a sense of foreboding and gentle terror. Some of the colour has been taken from a bruise on my leg. I’d never really appreciated how bruising has its own unique signature of colour and tone before, not that I’m looking to give myself anymore injuries or anything. The work is also a little tighter for a reason I’m not sure of yet. I think the inclusion of figures has tested my skills a little, causing me to be more precious with how I apply the paint. I’m pretty satisfied with them for now and am looking to develop some of the ideas that have been generated as a result.

Do you have any ideas or plans for your work in the future?

For now I’m interested in introducing more figures into the work and to see where it takes me. Hopefully I can maintain the exclusivity that the viewer has had in previous work. I still get a thrill from presenting relatively empty places for the viewer to look in on and occupy themselves. I think if I were to focus too much on the narrative of an image’s characters, it will start to fill the space that the viewer had. Exploring this and exhibiting where I can are simple enough aims for me right now.

And last but not least, where can people see your work?

People can see my work at www.henry-finney.com and follow me on Instagram at @henrygeorge86.

‘Goodbye Again’ (2016), household paint on canvas, 40cm x 35cm

. . .

Thanks very much to Henry for taking the time to answer my questions! I really enjoyed learning more about his artwork and approach to making art, and I hope you enjoyed reading about it too.

Please be sure to check out his work and give him a follow on Instagram, and if you have any thoughts or comments for either of us then please leave them below or get in touch with him. He and I would surely appreciate it!

Andrew Wilson Photography

Behind the Art with Henry Finney /April 16, 2020 by Andrew Wilson

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