Isn't Art the world within - uncensored? Floating and breathing, independent of a so-called "art world"? And so these are the dreams and nightmares – quite simply seen.”
Edward Povey Paintings

Selected Paintings


A woman and some shapes

A woman and some shapes

Edward Povey
1998

Oil on linen
32 x 22 inches

Signed and dated lower right
In a private collection in San Francisco

I believe that this painting is about awareness: she is stocky and naked, signifying solidity, reliability and honesty, as well as perhaps vulnerability. Her eyes are closed and with one hand she senses the basic shapes below her: the physical world and its abundance. With the other she senses the worlds beyond. The psyche.


Girls, Girls, Girls

Girls, Girls, Girls

Edward Povey
2008

Oil on linen
28 x 22 inches

Signed and dated lower right

At first the woman herself - quite distraught and standing in her vulnerable nakedness on the landing - appears shocking. But quite soon the girls, endlessly pacing through the house like a terrible treadmill of regret and loss - become far more shocking than the woman, for whom we begin to feel sympathy.


Private World

Private World

Edward Povey
2008

Oil on linen
28 x 22 inches

Signed and dated lower left

So much of life is ambiguous. All things simply are what they are, devoid of inherent meaning.


Sleight of Hand

Sleight of Hand

Edward Povey
1997

Oil on linen
20 x 22 inches

Signed and dated upper right
In the artist's own collection

For some years I had been interested in the notion of the inner child – studying the work of John Bradshaw – the family therapist, and when this design appeared – showing the magician, amazed to find the inner child appearing before him, I knew it was a new reminder of this enduring concern. I love the theatrical quality…the spotlight and the heavy folds of the tablecloth.


Things We Can Count On

Things We Can Count On

Edward Povey
2008

Oil on linen
24 x 32 inches

Signed and dated lower right

The basis for this painting is emotional, and its source lies beyond sight in the unconscious.

The man is effeminate and tense, perched on the very edge of a step, and seemingly on the edge of tears. The child could be the child that he once was - painted extremely sensitively: dappled and pale green, the boy is in a rage, storming up the steps, observed by the man that he will become.

Is it that the man can see the natural outcome of the rage which he felt as a child? That if the child were to have continued to express such anger, his path would have taken him inevitably up the tower and off the top, to his death, like the man visible through the window.


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