We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Lucille Smithson a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Lucille, appreciate you joining us today. Learning the craft is often a unique journey from every creative – we’d love to hear about your journey and if knowing what you know now, you would have done anything differently to speed up the learning process.

I started painting ten years ago. Before that, and before having children, I had worked as a graphic designer, and then as an art director at Saatchi and Saatchi in London.

In 2014, just as my youngest child started kindergarten, a close friend of mine died unexpectedly. That news brought with it profound grief coupled with debilitating anxiety. Around this time a flier arrived in my postbox advertising art classes at a school just a couple of blocks from my house, at the Hampstead School of Art. My late friend, who had been a wonderful painter, had often encouraged me to take up oil painting. And while I am reticent to put stock in magical thinking, the synchronicity of this felt poignant.

I started taking weekly classes at the school, and soon discovered that my interest lay in figurative realism and specifically portraiture. While my design and advertising experience had been useful in helping me grasp the importance of composition, figurative art requires a lot of specific skills in terms of learning how to draw, in addition to the myriad of skills that painting requires. Once I knew what it was I wanted to do, I was strategic about choosing classes that would benefit my specific goals. So I took a life painting class, a portrait painting class, and also sculpture.

I set up a space at home and tried to work whenever I had a spare moment, around parenting two small children and a partner who travelled a lot. In the midst of all of this, I also noticed that my anxiety had started to lift. Without realizing it, I had set in motion a practice that would become an essential tool in benefitting my mental health going forwards. As time passed, I started to seek out people whose work I admired on Instagram and did workshops with them. An evening here, a weekend there, and at one point, two weeks in Rome which was an amazing experience.

And so my career as an artist was gradually shaped through this pieced together education of doing classes here and there, and workshops, and reading art books and looking at a lot of art. But the real learning was happening at home in my work space – all of those frustrating attempts and occasionally one or two that I was ok with. One of the most challenging aspects of my learning process was trying to discover my own unique style as an artist. You have all of these teachers and all of their voices in your head, and you are trying to find where you are in all of it. There are artists who teach a process-driven method and while you are studying with them your work looks like theirs. That can feel safe but it’s not ideal. Like my friend the artist Eduardo Monteagudo advised earlier on in my art career, “You have to learn how to paint and then forget everything you have learnt.” Somewhere along the line you have to find your own voice and that comes from operating outside of the safe zone and experimenting. And gradually you find yourself making work that changes from a thinking to a more instinctive process and that’s when the work starts to become more distinctively yours.

At the recommendation of a friend, I started posting my progress on social media, which was predominantly Facebook at the time. People following me began enquiring about portrait commissions, which initially I would try and talk them out of, and then gradually as I become more proficient, I accepted. And somewhere in the middle of all of this, my professional artistic career began.

The most essential skill for me in terms of the work I do as a figurative realist is drawing. If I were to rewind my art education, I would have started with drawing classes and done that until I became fairly proficient before diving into painting. And then with regards to painting, find an initial class that covered a lot of practical technical aspects through exercises. 

There are people who are not interested in the nuts and bolts of technical knowledge – they just want to enjoy painting. I think how you go about your art education, depends a lot on the kind of art you want to make. For me, having launched directly into painting, there were many unfathomable hits and misses in my early work before I realized that I was lacking essential technical knowledge and that had to be addressed before my work started to become more consistent.

Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.

My name is Lucille Smithson, and I am a South African born British figurative realist oil painter. My work has been exhibited in London and Los Angeles and published in the UK. I also take photographs, write about art, and interview other artists about their process. I currently live in Los Angeles with my family, which includes five animals.

I predominantly undertake portrait commissions and also paint biographical portraits of people, animals and scenes in my life. I am working on an ongoing series of paintings of creative people I know.

I like to think of myself as a psychological painter and aim not just for a likeness, but a characterization of someone. So that even if you don’t know them, you can look at their portrait and get a sense of who they are. This is perhaps the distinction between say a straightforward likeness in a painting and an attempt to communicate something of a person’s character. My two majors at college were photojournalism and psychology, and I think both really inform my work as an artist and what I’m searching for and trying to communicate.

My portrait commissions are a collaborative process between myself and the patron. How wonderful it is when someone really loves the finished painting, and feeling included in the creative process can be a part of that. Because I work from photographs, and can’t always meet and photograph the subject myself (sometimes the painting is a surprise, or of someone who is deceased for example) I ask a lot of questions about the subject I am painting to get a sense of them. These can be questions such as where the person grew up and what their childhood was like. I also like to ask people what they care deeply about, and likewise things that they find challenging in themselves and others. So the portrait then becomes a process of trying to piece together this narrative I have formed of them, and hoping to have a point in the painting where I have a sense of recognition. The “Ah, there you are!” moment. And in the case of commissions, the hope is that the person commissioning it and even more importantly, the subject, has that sense of recognition of themselves too.

In terms of what I am most proud of, I’m not sure I put much stock in pride because I think everything we do that is successful is part hard work and consistency and part luck. I think most of all I am thankful that I have a disposition towards being tenacious, I have a good work ethic, and I’m determined. These are valuable character traits for an artist – because so much of making art isn’t necessarily a linear process and sometimes, especially with experimentation, can feel like one step forwards and two steps back. There’s also a lot of uncertainty when you are trying to bring an idea to life even if you have the tools. There aren’t any instructions or rules, and so much of the time you’re winging it with only your own taste and judgement to guide you. And aside from your own harsh internal critic, you are then putting your work out into the public domain for others to do the same – and that’s risky. There’s also rejection notices from things like group exhibitions to deal with and trying to find a gallery to represent you. And ultimately having to make a living from selling something that is entirely subjective in terms of whether or not people like it. These things might go some way to explaining this perception of the tortured artist.

I recently had a painting included in the Royal Society of Portrait Painters annual exhibition in London, which is a famously difficult exhibition to get into. That was a great sense of accomplishment for me because I had entered it over the years, had a couple of shortlisted paintings, but until this year had never got a painting in. There was also a degree of luck involved (as there always is in life) because there were artists who are incredibly skilled who didn’t get their work in. When it comes to exhibitions it’s not just about how good something is, but also who’s on the decision panel, what their particular taste is, if there is a theme, the desire for a variety of styles, etc.

As a painter and also a photographer, I derive inspiration from many different sources. My world is visual – I look at everything thinking: how would I paint or photograph this? Photography is also really beneficial in helping you understand composition in painting too. And I think both photography and painting have really taught me how to not just see but to really look at things. The light catching someone’s face as they sit across from me reading on the train, a couple involved in an animated conversation, the gesture of an animal at rest, the way the colors in the shadows change on the side of my neighbors house at different parts of the day. Life is art.

Where possible I plan my travel around exhibitions, art museums and architectural places I want to visit, and I document everything photographically. I also follow a lot of artists on Instagram and share their work on a page I curate called @the_aesthetes_altar. I believe very strongly in the value of community and supporting other artists, and also being inspired by their work. Looking at art is one of the best ways to develop a really good taste level and to understand what makes a good or effective painting for your own work too.

What’s a lesson you had to unlearn and what’s the backstory?

When it comes to unlearning things, for me that’s predominantly been about beliefs or opinions that turned out to be incorrect or that no longer serve me. And that it’s perfectly OK to change your mind about something as and when new information comes to light. I think a lot of what we believe or think we ought to believe, also comes from how we were raised and the company we keep. Perhaps as a child you internalize your parents way of thinking and doing things, and that forms part of your self concept. However this can also act as a limitation and deterrent when you want to try new things, challenge those opinions based on your own unique experiences, and essentially be your own person.

What comes to mind for me especially is this concept of talent and that some people are just naturally cut out for certain things and others are not. What I have discovered, not just through my artistic journey but also through having children of my own, is that you can do and gain a great deal of proficiency in almost anything you are interested in, provided you are prepared to put in the work and be consistent. Also not getting a concept quickly or at the same pace as others does not mean you are bad at something or not cut out for it. We all learn differently and at a different pace, and likewise we all bring a unique set of valuable aspects to what we do based on our biography and biology.

When I hear the word talent with reference to my own work, I have a negative reaction to it. I appreciate that for many people that’s another way of saying an artist is skilled, but for me it appears to skip over all of the work I have and continue to put in, and reduces it to a kind of magical quality you are born with. And this kind of thinking can also act as a deterrent to others – as if being a good artist is something exclusive to a handful of creators. As Bob Ross said, ‘Talent is a pursued interest. Anything that you’re willing to practice, you can do.’

I agree that being an artist is more than just say, learning how to copy something proficiently. Being an artist is a way of seeing and being in the world that impacts all aspects of your life. Also great work as opposed to pleasing work does tend to stem not only from being skilled but having sensibilities that aren’t always quantifiable – many artists occupy that space between a seen and a felt world.

I try not to dwell on the fact that there are artists I follow whose mastery comes across more so as magic than skill, and try instead to focus on my own individual process. There’s always going to be someone higher up on the ladder than you – and you can either be inspired and continue to try and climb up or give up. This growth mindset has been absolutely crucial to my development as an artist. If I see something that I think it really really good, I tell myself – that person learnt how to do those things. For me it’s all about the work and continuing to try and close that gap between what I am capable of making now and what I want to make. And that gap is constantly shifting as I gather skills, progress and my taste changes.

I also derive an enormous sense of pleasure and meaning from making art and learning new things. To have an idea and then have the tools to be able to bring it to life is an incredibly gratifying experience. Painting also helps settle my mind when I’m distracted or worried about things, and it gives me the ability to communicate something that I can’t always put into words. I also really love looking at other people’s art and value my friendships with other artists.

How did you build your audience on social media?

The nature of self promotion on social media has changed a lot over the years and continues to do so. There was a time when hash-tagging static posts was sufficient, then reels started taking over, and this concept that you had to post every day. Followed by posts accompanied by music, and now people are cross posting between TikTok, FB and Instagram. While I know some artists who are very creative, consistent and up to the minute in terms of their social media tools, many more loathe having to participate in this kind of marketing and find the time required to do it effectively and regularly, a distraction from their ability to work.

With the exception of being on TikTok I have done all of the above with no discernible results. I have an accredited blue tick Instagram account that I pay for, but apart from that I have never paid to promote any posts, or used any kind of advertising on IG or Facebook, so I cannot speak to the effectiveness of that kind of social media marketing. I have never used any kind of platform to grow my followers either – I’ve always wanted my growth to be organic and my followers to be real people who actively engage with my work.

The questions you have to ask yourself are: What do I want from my social media? Is it a way to promote your work to prospective collectors or galleries? To network and find opportunities? To have a community with other artists? Usually it’s a combination of these.

The advice I most often give people regarding their Instagram or Facebook platforms is also based on their answers to those questions. If you Instagram is essentially a portfolio or used instead of a website, then I suggest keeping it about your work, and sharing the work of others in your stories. Perhaps having a separate personal account where you can share things that your friends and family might enjoy seeing. Not everyone agrees with this but it also comes from interviewing artists and having to sift through their pages to find examples of their work.

It’s also really essential to keep in perspective that platforms such as Instagram are just tools and not real life. Something I’ve had to regularly remind myself about because like so many others I’ve had somewhat of an addiction to it. Ultimately the work, that thing you love and struggle with back in your studio, and how you feel about it, is the most important thing. And that’s where your primary focus and time should be spent. The rest is marketing, and I’m not that convinced about its efficacy either.

Platforms such as Instagram, TikTok and increasingly FB, are designed to keep you looking at content, using algorithms to feed your interests so you are endlessly scrolling through reels. It’s like casinos that are intentionally built with no natural light, so you have no idea what time it is, and how long you’ve spent there.

 With this overt over-saturation of images, reels, advertising and stimulation, is this really the right platform for your work to be properly viewed and communicated? There are also some days where this sensory overload can be detrimental to your mental space and ability to think about your own work, and also leave you wondering what the point is because there are so many other people making stuff.

Also are likes a true reflection of the value of your work? I think of it in the following way: If five people came up to me in an exhibition and told me they loved a painting of mine, I would be thrilled. But if I only get five likes on IG, I’m a little peeved.
 I also wonder, who is in fact seeing my work? Because I follow a lot of artists, and between the sea of advertising and suggested reels on my feed, I only see a fraction of their posts unless I specifically go and look at their pages. For this reason I maintain a website. I’m not sure how many people actively go and look at it, but at least I have a quiet, reel and advertising free place where someone can deep dive into my work. I aways direct people to it who are interested in commissioning me for a portrait rather than any of my social media platforms.

I currently have an issue with Meta’s approach regarding AI’s ability to mine our art to learn from without giving us the ability to opt out. I don’t think of AI as some vague mechanism in the internet ether, rather this is software specifically designed by companies and used by others to generate content for profit. 
This is a big issue for me. In the same way that you cannot paint from someone’s photographs without their permission or payment due to their copyright, I don’t see how it’s OK for AI to be able to use an artists work without permission or compensation. On closer inspection Meta’s terms of use appear to be very clear about how they may use your work when you create an account with them, and therein lies the rub.

My feelings about the overtly commercial nature of social media and the unsettling rise of the machines aside, I am genuinely grateful for the sense of artistic community it can generate, which can be invaluable to those of us who work predominantly in a solitary way. This was especially relevant during the pandemic, during which time I created an instagram page called @magic_8_art, where I interviewed artists about how they were dealing with the isolation and insecurity. It was also a way for us to feel connected to each other and encouraged during those uncertain times. The community I have on Instagram has also provided me with some incredible friendships that also exist in real time. People who continue to inspire and encourage me with how they are in the world and their work, who are supportive of mine in turn, and whose dedication to their craft validates the work that I do and care about.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://lucillesmithson.com
• Instagram: lucillesmithsonart
• Facebook: Lucille Smithson Art
• Linkedin: Lucille Smithson
• Youtube: @Magic8Art
• Other: I also curate the following pages on Instagram:
  magic_8_art
  the_aesthetes_altar
  fine.artworkshops – (this one is to share art workshop information)