We recently had the pleasure of sitting down with Paul Balmer to explore the artistry behind his dynamic compositions. From textured cityscapes to expressive still lifes and figure studies, his work is a masterful blend of structure and spontaneity. Read on for insight into his creative process, techniques, and the inspirations that fuel his distinctive style.
How would you describe your creative process?
I don’t use traditional art materials—I use mostly what I find at the hardware store (wall compounds, marble dust, blades, drill sanders and rollers). My method of applying the paint is also unconventional. After applying thick paint I then draw into that paint with a small drill which gives me an etched line. Then it’s a combination of collaging and sanding the layers.
This entire process makes for all kinds of unintentional marks and unexpected color combinations. The paintings are somewhat out of my control and tend to go off in their own direction. The initial idea changes completely by the end of the painting.
How has your work evolved over the years?
I started off doing illustration after college and I got a job teaching drawing in Switzerland, of all places. While I was there I did lots of traveling around Europe and painted the Neoclassical architecture there. I did a whole series of those and brought them to Boston to exhibit. Then I moved to New York City and tried to continue in the same style, but it didn’t quite capture the feel of New York. I started incorporating everything I saw into my paintings—the textures, the bridges, the boats—until a new cityscape style emerged. That became the first body of work I exhibited in New York City.
The textures in my work came from a slight accident where I was painting one of my Neoclassical pieces and it just wasn’t working out. I took a disc sander to the surface and sanded it down to get rid of the paint. It broke through all the layers and all of the other colors came through. That ended up becoming a signature style for the cityscapes, too.
How do you come up with your color palettes?
The color palette is something that comes out of my process. I mix my paints on a huge, five-foot-long glass surface. When a mix gets interesting I set it aside and keep going, gradually discovering colors that work together as a group. I’ll have almost the whole tonal range already worked out before I start the painting.
Do you start with studies before you begin painting?
I like to almost sketch on the canvas but with the Dremel tool, so the lines are carved into the surface. The thing about this process is that I can’t be too precise. I’ll do the drawing, and if it isn’t quite how I want it, I’ll just rearrange it—but all those lines that were there in the beginning will show through in the final piece. It gives the painting much more character and reveals a little bit of the history.
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Have any of your travels around the world influenced eras of your work?
I suppose moving from NYC to Connecticut and having a family got me into doing the still lifes—that was one of the big moves. But I always wanted to try to tackle still life because it’s something that all artists have tried at one point or another.
When I travel, I take a lot of pictures. I do landscape painting too, and that’s very influenced by traveling. Especially growing up in South Africa, I was drawn to the lush greens and blues of Stellenbosch and the Cape Town area. And Australia has that red dirt and a bit of a dusty orange color. Those two places, as well as trips to California, influence the landscapes. San Francisco in particular shares the same elements as New York with the boats and the bridges.
Could you speak about the symbolism found in your abstract work?
The symbols represent the passing of time—day and night, seasons, landscape and nature.
I love the order of repetition that is somehow broken up. I was inspired by the structure of a lunar calendar—it’s grid of squares and the changing phases of the moon. I have taken that further by having elements break out of the squares. The collection of symbols are “fragmented” (achieved by layering and sanding the surface).
The grid or “tapestry” is a good way to contain the images of moons waxing and waning and of trees, rocks, rainbows and structures, but some are barely visible as I am trying to get at a memory of a scene or a dream where things are not entirely clear. Some images like stylized stars and rainbows have a childlike quality and other symbols have a deeper meaning. I enjoy the juxtaposition of all that is going on here—the naive and nuanced. The chaos and structure.
This series also came out of the drawings in a sketch book torn out and laid next to each other. Each square represents a miniature canvas, and the hope is that the viewer explores the textures and tone of the individual squares, and pieces together the “story” on the entire canvas.
