Nick Dawes (b. 1969, Johannesburg, South Africa) builds paintings through accumulation, pouring thin layers of paint onto unprimed canvas. His process balances control against material behavior—and the work has evolved considerably. From 2000 through 2010, the London-based artist used masking tape to create road signs, lining them along the top of canvases and releasing paint off the bottom, offering a post-minimal practice where the object existed in entropy, moving itself down the surface. At some point Dawes noticed paint leaking off the sides, soaking into the fabric. Those details seemed more interesting than the center. The freeform marks that formed accidentally at the edges laid the foundation for new work.
This inspired Dawes’s interest in color field painting: 1950s and 60s abstraction, or High Modernism. A full lineage emerged from one observed detail, and the artist realized he could pour letters by tipping and tilting the support to create angles and form shapes. Finding the right materials proved critical. Previously surfaces were sanded smooth emphasising figure and ground and a hard flat graphic quality. The decision to work on unprimed canvas around 2012 opened up a new area of inquiry that invited a softer aesthetic where very thin layers could be used to build form in space, in an expanded watercolor approach focused on what he calls a “taut continuum of surface.” Paint stayed thin enough that the eye moved across it uninterrupted, sinking in instead of resting on top.
The technique appears spontaneous but operates slowly. Small drawings and sketches first, thoughts about color next, and then, for Dawes, those first marks. The artist spends hours examining his materials before painting, waiting for layers to dry unless he’s working wet on wet. Sometimes the work goes too far and requires re-stretching and starting over. Yet what remains is a surface that invites sustained viewing, one where transparency and tone create an intimate audience environment.
Charles Moore: Let’s start by telling me a little bit about your background, including how you became interested in making art and specifically what drew you to abstract painting.
Nick Dawes: I think I was quite young—probably in my early teens—when I first started thinking about art more seriously. I enjoyed drawing and I began painting as well. Making art was a way for me to interact with the world around me and it started by drawing and continued from there.
Regarding abstract painting: the work became more abstract between 2000 and 2010. I was using process as a means of mark-making. I used masking tape to tape out road signs and then released paint from the bottom of them. I’d line them up along the top in a sort of post-minimalist practice where the object was in a state of entropy, releasing itself down the surface. There were lines of paint and the colors were dictated by the signs. At some point, I noticed paint was leaking off the sides over the edge and soaking into the fabric. I thought that was a very interesting result.
I wondered how I could focus on that detail, zoom in on it, and blow it up into the “main event.” How do you take what was on the side and structure it so that it can be on the front? Those freeform marks formed on the side of those early paintings became the basis for the new work. One of the things about abstraction is that there are many different types, but I wanted to explore a method of mark-making that still maintained a connection to reality. It occurred to me that I could “pour” letters by tipping and tilting the support to create angles and form large shapes.
Then it was a case of finding the right material and that opened up an investigation into Color Field painting, High Modernism, and 1950s/60s abstraction. It was a whole new area for me that came about just from observing that one detail on the side of those earlier paintings. The work is connected to reality, but it has gone on a journey and transformed into something else.
Charles: Right. You’ve said in the past your work often begins with influences from everyday signs and texts you encounter. How did this starting point become central to your practice?
Nick: Well, the subject matter... I think with early work, the thing about Modernism per se is a preoccupation with flatness and surface. In the earlier work, I’d sand the surface very smooth and then pour the paint so that it would sit on top of the surface emphasizing figure and ground. Sorry, I can’t remember—what was the original question?
Charles: How did this starting point become central to your work?
Nick: Right. Printed signs are very flat objects. They correspond with the flatness of the surface; there’s a graphic element there. There wouldn’t be surface and depth per se; it would just be the paint itself on the surface of the support. The signs started almost out of convenience. I thought: how can I find a “ready-made” that is flat enough to tape out? That’s how those evolved.
Once I started pouring very thin layers of paint onto an unprimed canvas around 2012, the whole technique changed. It was not quotational in the Post Modern sense, but rather a re imagining of those methods to make something new. It became much more about building form in space—thinking of it in terms of an expanded watercolor technique. It was still a focus on surface, but it was about maintaining a continuum. I wrote it down earlier: “a taut continuum of surface.” The paint is kept thin enough so that you read the surface as one holistic whole; your eye moves across it uninterrupted by texture or other elements. The eye really sinks in. It was a much slower approach to viewing—traditional in a way, like traditional watercolor painting, moving from background to foreground, light to dark, and growing form within the space of the field. But the space is not empty; the ‘unpainted’ areas give room for shapes to maneuver in a spatial way.
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