"I hate painting"
About this Quote
“I hate painting” lands like a provocation because it comes from someone who spent a lifetime proving the opposite in public. Howard Hodgkin wasn’t a dilettante taking a swing at the medium; he was an artist whose canvases feel obsessively labored over, revised, and emotionally freighted. That tension is the point. The line reads less as a confession of disinterest than as a candid glimpse of the grind behind the glow.
In studio culture, “hate” often means intimacy. Painting is slow, bodily, and humiliating in the way only a craft can be: it refuses your first idea, exposes your taste gaps, and forces you to watch your own limitations dry in real time. Hodgkin’s work, with its dense color and stubborn surfaces, suggests a relationship defined by friction. If you’re making paintings that behave like memories - smeared, layered, never quite finished - you’re also signing up for the anxiety of never getting it exactly right.
The subtext is almost managerial: don’t romanticize this. Saying he hates painting punctures the myth of the artist as a blissed-out conduit for inspiration. It reframes painting as a difficult partner, not a muse. That stance also doubles as a defense against the market’s appetite for charming narratives. Better to offer an unpretty truth: the pleasure is real, but it’s earned through irritation, repetition, and the private dread that the next canvas won’t work.
In studio culture, “hate” often means intimacy. Painting is slow, bodily, and humiliating in the way only a craft can be: it refuses your first idea, exposes your taste gaps, and forces you to watch your own limitations dry in real time. Hodgkin’s work, with its dense color and stubborn surfaces, suggests a relationship defined by friction. If you’re making paintings that behave like memories - smeared, layered, never quite finished - you’re also signing up for the anxiety of never getting it exactly right.
The subtext is almost managerial: don’t romanticize this. Saying he hates painting punctures the myth of the artist as a blissed-out conduit for inspiration. It reframes painting as a difficult partner, not a muse. That stance also doubles as a defense against the market’s appetite for charming narratives. Better to offer an unpretty truth: the pleasure is real, but it’s earned through irritation, repetition, and the private dread that the next canvas won’t work.
Quote Details
| Topic | Art |
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