PERSPECTIVE
Transforming simple lines into visual stories
10 December 2024 – Vol 2, Issue 4.
My creative process begins when I see an image that triggers something in me. It does not have to be a grand or complex image. Usually, it is a simple line, the most basic squiggle, or a shape that seems almost insignificant at first glance. But there, I somehow see potential – something that can be taken further and developed into a piece of art. This initial spark, a flicker of inspiration, is the beginning.
‘Reminder of Summer’, acrylic on canvas. 54×95 cm. 2023.
I often have scribbles and sketches lying around, small pieces of paper with ideas that I might use later. These scraps might sit in a drawer or a bag for weeks, months, or even years, waiting for the right moment. Then, one day, I’ll come across one of these scribbles and think, ‘Yes, this is what I need for my next piece’. Sometimes, an idea just needs to wait until its time has come.
I’ve always been a creative person, but my path to becoming a visual artist was not conventional. I didn’t study art. I used to work as a landscape designer, designing gardens. In many ways, this was my first foray into the world of art. Designing gardens is very much like painting, but with plants. You’re working with colours, textures, and forms, arranging them in a way that’s aesthetically pleasing and harmonious. It is working with living elements, creating something beautiful from the earth. The process is about balance and harmony, but also about spontaneity and intuition. I try to bring that same spontaneity to my paintings.
‘In Orange’, acrylic on canvas. 50×50 cm. 2024.
I also pay attention to materials when I create art. I could be sorting through old clothes and come across a silk blouse that’s seen better days. The blouse might be worn and faded, but to me, it still has life, and I want to give it a new purpose. So, I take this old piece of fabric, cut it up, and stretch it across a board to create my canvas. I love to recycle materials. Recycling is not just about being resourceful; it’s about giving history, texture, and story to the art, which go beyond the paint itself.
Each fabric absorbs paint in its own unique way. Silk, for instance, behaves differently from rough cotton. The texture, the way it absorbs or repels paint, and how it interacts with other materials all influence the final piece. There’s a certain unpredictability to this process. I never really know what the finished product will look like until it’s done.
‘Princess’, acrylic and string on canvas. 23,5 x 18cm. 2022.
I often incorporate string or thread. ‘Drawing’ with a string, as opposed to using a brush, allows for more fluidity. The string can be manipulated in ways that a brush cannot. String allows for more organic and spontaneous forms. I start with glue, which helps the string adhere to the surface, but beyond that, the process is free-flowing. The type of string I use varies – sometimes it’s a coarse stiff thread that I’ve found in a charity shop, perhaps something that was used over a hundred years ago. At other times, it’s a finer, more delicate thread. Each type of string behaves differently.
‘Still Life with Fish’, acrylic and scarp paper on canvas. 48×48 cm. 2023.
I enjoy the idea that these materials, whether they’re old clothes, vintage threads, or even scraps of paper, carry with them a previous life. They all had a different purpose, and I’m giving them a new narrative in my art.
‘Wondrous World’, acrylic on canvas. 46×61 cm. June 2024.
My partner often jokes about how I fall in love with each new piece I create. And it’s true. Every time I finish a painting, there’s a sense of satisfaction and joy. It’s not just about completing the work; it’s about the journey that I’ve taken with that piece. Each painting feels like the best one I’ve ever done, not because it’s perfect, but because of the unique journey that led to its creation…
‘Embrace of Affection’, acrylic on canvas. 19x14cm. 2023.
When I paint, I layer colours upon colours. There’s no set order for how I apply the paint; I don’t plan out which colour should go where. I simply respond to the canvas, and to the layers that have come before. Each layer interacts with the ones beneath it. The final piece is the result of this cumulative process, and it’s something that can never be exactly replicated. Each painting is a unique journey, a one-of-a-kind creation that reflects the specific conditions, materials, and inspirations of the moment.
‘Exotic Fish’, acrylic on canvas. 57×41 cm. 2019.
One of the first pieces I created was ‘Exotic Fish’. This was during my early days as a painter, a time when I was still finding my way. I didn’t have any formal art training, so everything I did was self-taught, and learned through trial and error. The work began with simple lines drawn across the canvas. I had no clear idea of what I wanted to create; I was just playing with the lines, letting them guide me. The fish emerged as a form that seemed to naturally evolve from the lines. The painting wasn’t even oriented the way it is now. Originally, it was meant to be viewed in portrait orientation, but a friend suggested rotating it, so that the fish look upward.
‘Framed Beauty’, acrylic on canvas. 50×40 cm. 2024. This photo does not show the frame, only the painting (there is no photo of the painting with the frame).
I don’t consciously set out to create a sense of movement or energy in my paintings, but those elements often emerge naturally. For instance, for the piece ‘Framed Beauty’ I was working with a very old, recycled frame that I had found. The frame was made of dark mahogany, and I felt that the painting needed to complement its warm tones. So, I began painting with the frame in mind, letting the colours and forms evolve to match the frame’s character. My partner noticed that the figure’s arm in the painting seemed too long, but I felt that this was correct. The elongated arm worked well with the frame, and also added movement and energy.
‘Looking For Daisies’, acrylic on canvas. 49.5×149 cm. 2024.
I’m a person full of energy, full of zest for life. I don’t just want to create something that is visually pleasing; I want my work to convey a sense of vitality, of life. That’s why I often start with a line, something simple, and let it take me on a journey. I follow that line, see where it leads, and build the painting around it. It’s like taking a dog for a walk, letting it explore its surroundings, and discovering new paths along the way.
My thanks to Dr. Gil Dekel for his contribution and editing of this article.
At a Glance:
Artwork = Process (Lines, Materials, Intuition).
The creation of art is a process guided by lines, materials and intuition.
© Journal of Creativity and Inspiration.
Images/art © Lila Tapley.
Lila Tapley is a visual artist, working primarily with acrylics and mixed media, and recently experimenting with portraiture. She employs vibrant colours in her art, aiming to bring joy and happiness to her viewers.
