14 minute read
Dan Hollings is painting his place in the world
New Beginnings
Dan Hollings is painting his place in the world
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The Torquay-born, Falmouth-based artist moved around a lot as a kid, never truly settling on one concrete idea of home. This transience forms the backbone of his art: a dedication to exposing the fantastical in the fleeting, before relating it back to his own experiences as a young man still figuring things out.
WORDS: NIALL FLYNN PHOTOGRAPHY: BECKY TYRRELL
Every morning, Dan Hollings wakes up at around 7am and makes the journey from his home in Falmouth to his studio in Redruth, where he’ll try and paint for a solid 12 hours.
When he’s not holed up there, though, you might find him idly wandering the streets, observing. The artist, who was born in Torquay but spent most of his childhood in Wales, is a proud people-watcher. For his money, the town from which he works is one of the best places to indulge in such a pastime. “I’m very nosey,” he says. “And Redruth, everyone seems to know each other. There are a lot of lives.”
Dan seeks to explore the surrealness in all of this. As an artist, he uncovers the magic in the mundane, taking the everyday scenes and injecting into them a dose of the strange. His characters, forlorn footie lads and nature-dwelling hypebeasts, see their limbs contort and detach, while landscapes amalgamate as terrain and sea mingle freely.
In this sense, his imagination exists somewhere between Lewis Carroll and Poundland Bandit: the world he constructs on the canvas is a fantastical alternate reality, but it’s populated by people wearing Palace.
Prior to Cornwall, Dan studied for an Art Foundation at the University of South Wales, before moving down to attend Falmouth University. Once there, he worked a series of side jobs in hotels, clubs and supermarkets – prime locations for inspiration – while painting on the side.
In 2018, once he finished at Falmouth, things moved quickly. Less than a month after he’d graduated, he was selected by Saatchi Art as one of 34 artists from Europe and America to invest in. He was shortlisted for a Midas Award and the Jackson’s Art Emerging Artist Of The Year (Panel’s Choice) that same year, as well as appearing in a series of group shows.
The following year saw him featured in more group exhibitions – in locations ranging from Truro to New York. In 2020, his solo show Big Boys Don’t Cry debuted at That Art Gallery in Bristol. In spring 2021, London’s Alveston Fine Arts played host to another solo exhibition, Thistle Kiss at 4 a.m. “I feel like I’ve been given a really good opportunity where I’m able to paint full-time,” says Dan. “I just want to make the most of that.”
In conversation, Dan is affable and easygoing, hesitant to take himself too seriously. But he’s clear on what inspires him. Alongside a desire to take ordinary moments and apply the uncanny, he is also taken with the idea of identity: his place in the world as a young man, his relationship with himself.
“Most of the work comes from what I’ve seen on the streets or conversations that I can pick up on. But they’re scenes that I always try to relate back to me. Although they end up being bright and bold, that’s not necessarily how I feel. A lot of the time they can act like a mask. Of course I find myself painting using my emotions – but at the same time I try not to let them all out.” Niall Flynn: You moved around a bit as a kid, but spent a considerable amount of time in Wales. In that sense, is Wales home?
Dan Hollings: I think I struggle with that question, really. I struggle to properly settle into a place. Wales wasn’t really my cup of tea – there wasn’t really a lot there for me as such, not for what I’m into. I didn’t have a huge friendship group or anything like that. That’s why I decided to go to University down in Cornwall and in Falmouth. I felt like I needed a fresh start. I settled in a lot more, especially with the Falmouth art scene. But now that I’ve grown a bit older and spent some more time here, I found that it’s not really meshing again. I think it’s just this repeating idea – of me struggling to find exactly where I want to be.
NF: Is it fair to say that comes through in your work?
DH: Yeah, definitely. My work always shows different places and locations that I’ve lived. The lack of consistency in that probably speaks to me kind of finding my identity. I always find a lot of Welsh motifs appearing in my work. You’ll see Welsh dragons, Welsh crests. But there are St George’s flags too, and the titles of the works are from places I’ve visited around England.
NF: At what point did art enter your life?
DH: It started with doodling to be honest. I think it was when I was living with my nan –she helped raise me, so I spent a lot of time around her, while my mum worked and studied in the evenings. TV wasn’t really a thing at hers so I found my outlet through drawing. It wasn’t until I was around 16 that I started taking art seriously, though. I took a random bunch of subjects when I first started studying – physics, philosophy, maths and art. That’s when I fell in love with it properly. I bunged off the other subjects and concentrated on art.
NF: Would it have been a shock for people who knew you – when you dropped everything and threw yourself into art?
DH: It depends really. At the time, I was really set on doing engineering... I don’t know why to be honest, my Grandad was into that, so potentially it was a bit of a shock for him. But my mum was not surprised in the slightest, she obviously just wanted me to be happy and do something I love. They just embraced it, and still do now - something I’m really grateful for.
But back home in Cardiff, it was a very over-masculine sort of place. I felt like all the boys went on to do either business or sport. I was pretty much the only boy that started doing art. Especially the
school I was at, it was a rugby school – to be fair, I was happy to get involved in that, but as long as I could pick up my paintbrush and head to my art lessons after. So it probably ended up being a bit of a shock to my age group and peers, rather than my family.
NF: Was there a specific moment when you were embarking on this relationship with art where you thought, ‘Actually, this is something I could actually make a living from?’
DH: It was pretty recent to be fair, probably the last couple of years after I finished university. University is a massive safety blanket, you have three years of security before you need to
fend for yourself. There wasn’t really a lot of guidance for how to do your taxes, how to get yourself recognised. But then shows started to come and along with that some money, most of it just went back into my painting. The first painting I sold was from my degree show with Saatchi and it was actually from someone in America. To have someone appreciate my art from so far away was such a surreal and rewarding experience.
NF: Identity is a core theme in your work. What do you think your painting says about your relationship with yourself?
DH: When you’re young, you feel you don’t really understand what adults do, but the next thing you know you’re the adult that you didn’t understand. I’ve seen that idea come out in my work more recently. I feel that I’m constantly having an ongoing conversation with the canvas. A lot of people talk to therapists or other professionals, but for me I don’t feel comfortable doing that. For me painting is how I can overcome some of my problems. But even that sometimes doesn’t help – it can cover them up and just leave a mess!
NF: I can relate. I’m very good at burying things.
DH: Exactly, it feels like a cliché sometimes. I can be a happy fella, a bit of a joker even overly confident. But that’s sometimes the wrong impression or perception.
NF: It can be a bit of a shield, can’t it? But I like that you’ve identified art as a vehicle through which to explore that. Have you always had that relationship with your practice, or is it something that has developed over time?
DH: As I’ve grown older, I’ve felt more confident to use my art in that way. I used to bottle it all up but now I have somewhere where I can go and release it.
NF: You mention that you’re having an ongoing conversation with the canvas. Is it a one-way dialogue, or does it ever talk back?
DH: Sometimes I feel like the paint takes over and afterwards I’m not feeling the same way as the canvas. I often build up layers just by painting over old stuff that I no longer even think about. It’s like they’re not part of me anymore. But there are always parts that come through, even if I’ve tried covering them up, so then I’ll let that through and top it up again. I also find myself using the underpainting of one painting for the next one. It becomes really tactile within the motifs as well as the conversation.
NF: You’re a people-watcher. Tell me about that.
DH: Yeah. I can’t remember exactly who wrote about this, but I really like the idea of the french word ‘flâneur’. It basically means someone strolling or idling around, picking up on small details, bringing them back and then processing them. I remember I started feeling like I was doing this when I was working in a nightclub for a while. Of course, you see some absolute states there. Or even when I was stacking shelves at Tescos, things that seem mundane in everyday life are the sort of thing that I document. I just take it back to my studio and try to use it in my art.
NF: Can you recall any particular scenes that you’ve soaked up and immediately used?
DH: I always remember, in the nightclub, girls and guys hanging over the railings and spying on the dancefloor. They always reminded me of bats in a cage hanging upside down, just clinging on in the darkness. I like it when the body and the mind kind of separates a bit – it can cause different, obscure
shapes, the jelly legs or the arms flailing, I love capturing that.
NF: Your studio is in Redruth. What do you like about the town?
DH: Redruth is a bit rogue but it’s a good place to paint simply because it’s in Cornwall. There is so much going on within the art scene here, but next to that the people are just down to earth. Cornwall relies massively on tourism but it seems that the tourism and everything that carries alongside it doesn’t really reach Redruth. That can make it pretty insular, which I like to draw on – it gives me a bit of distance from the tourists. I feel like when you’re on holiday it’s almost a performed version of real life, whereas in Redruth I get to see what actually happens on an everyday level. In Cornwall, it’s easy to get drawn in by the beautiful scenery, the stunning lights and the gorgeous seascapes. Artists use that a lot, which is great. But, for me, I like to paint the innards of Cornwall – the people, the conversations, the things that make Cornwall... Cornwall.
NF: You mention the art scene. Are you a collaborative person?
DH: I’ve never collaborated and I’m not that would necessarily suit me and my work as it’s pretty personal and intimate. Also, in Redruth, it’s a pretty lonely place and lifestyle – I feel a lot of the time that I’m in solitude. I’m in a complex at the moment with a lot of graphic designers, website builders and general businesses, so this means I don’t really have a lot of
conversations with other painters about art. I kind of like that, though. It goes back to what I was saying earlier, about the idea of being kind of lost or whatever – moving about a lot, being a lonely child – all those things can be a comfort to me. I actually find myself sometimes more comfortable talking to people who can be a bit different to me, people that are a bit older maybe, rather than people my age. Again, that’s why I enjoy people watching as well, I can just sit back and absorb it and just watch it happen in front of me.
NF: I like how you take recognisable scenes and make them feel strange and uncanny.
DH: Yeah, I find myself picking up on the details of mundane scenes – I think that is what makes them instantly not mundane. I like pulling out those details and then expanding them to make them more present – whether it’s a little label, a bit of grass or part of a person. I recently found myself painting jeans all the time, simply because I found myself wearing them constantly, putting them on and taking them off again – that repetitiveness suddenly brought them into relevance for me.
NF: Given how personal the work is, the fact that other people see the value in it must be doubly rewarding?
DH: Because I make work for me and it’s about my life, it’s great that other people also enjoy it as well. I think that’s what art is about – it’s for the person that makes it. You shouldn’t have to worry about
whether other people are going to like it. It should be honest for yourself and if other people do like it then it’s a massive bonus.
NF: You write poetry too. What does that give you that painting doesn’t?
DH: I guess it can be a bit more thoughtful and reflective. There are similarities though – you can slap painting on a canvas the way you slap words on paper. They are also both methodical, the one difference is that I spend a lot more time painting. With my poetry, it’s just almost quick scribblings of what I’m thinking onto a page, then I’ll see if those words can work together at all. But I get the same feeling from completing a painting as I do a poem.
NF: Are there any other creative outlets you’d like to branch out into?
NH: Do you have any other creative outlets that you feel the urge to branch out on?
DH: I actually really want to try and sort out a creative space for other people, like a gallery. In Falmouth, there are the galleries and the uni, but they remain a bit separated. I’ve always wanted to create a space to bring them together a bit more, a space for everyone. Something like that would be really rewarding for me. I hate to see people finish an art degree and have to stop painting. It’s unfortunately the reality of it, but if I can do anything to change that then I will. I guess it comes from the fact that my mum always wanted to make sure I was okay – she’s a role model, she always put others before herself, so it’s what I want to do for people around me if I can, a chance to give back.t. I didn’t really have loads of opportunities in Wales with regards to the arts and I feel like so many people miss out. So if I can give someone else an opportunity then I would love that.
@danhollings
www.danhollingsart.com
