Ash Godley

Artist Ash Godley creates unsettling oil paintings that explore the familiar yet strange feeling of the uncanny. Drawing on a dual background in Studio Art and Art History, Godley discusses their fascination with the smooth, deep quality of oil paint, the influence of film and horror video games on their use of light, and how "home" functions as an element of nostalgia in their evocative work.

What first drew you to oil painting, and why did you choose this medium over others?

I was initially drawn to oil painting due to its smooth, glossy quality. You can achieve uniquely complex and deep colours, which was an element that I found aesthetically pleasing and a quality that reminds me of film photography. More specifically, oil’s opaque and rich colours allow for an incredibly realistic portrayal of light, which is why I think it reminds me of film and the main reason I keep returning to it in my work. Additionally, when I first started painting (when I got into high school) oil was a medium I wanted to get into because it was the language of the “old masters.” I found that this historical credibility added to its intimidating impression, appearing as a challenge I wanted to (and still want) to master myself.

You studied both Studio Art and Art History. How does this dual background inform your current practice, especially in your conceptual and technical approach to oil painting?

Art history is an integral part of my practice, and I try to consider it in every step of my process ─ it often shapes my paintings as I paint them. In other words, I view my work as a conversation, not only between my viewers and myself, but also my work and the art that came before (and alongside) it. In my head this conversation is mostly one of categorization, considering previous movements, genres, and figures and comparing whatever piece I’m working on with them. For example, while painting my show Dead Quiet I realized that I was making still life paintings. I had initially set out to paint video game environments yet found I kept focusing in on individual objects. This led me to embrace that direction further, establishing that link to history and changing how I viewed the series myself.

I also work in the other direction, starting with a concept I have encountered in my art history studies and attempting to fit it in the contemporary. That was how I arrived at my series Visit, as I wanted to explore the concept of bringing the viewer directly into the painting’s world, like in Nicholas Maes’ The Eavesdropper, from 1657. It depicts an eavesdropping maid who confronts the viewer, bringing a finger to her lips, asking us to be quiet and perhaps listen in ourselves. The viewer is inherently complicit in the maid’s act, which inspired me to make paintings where the viewer is directly trespassing, their act of looking itself becoming similarly one of complicity.

Your work is often described as exploring the “uncanny.” How would you define that feeling, and how do you seek to evoke it in the viewer?

The “Uncanny” describes a feeling that is familiar, yet at the same time unknown or strange. It is the unsettling feeling you get when seeing something you know in an unusual or eerie context ─ when a space or object feels “off.” In my work I try to explore this concept literally by representing everyday, banal environments through an unsettling lens, using the visual language of horror movies and video games. More specifically, I employ strange lighting, such as a flashlight, and tilt perspectives in my photos to achieve that atmosphere. By using this approach, I hope to present my viewer with familiarity and evoke personal memories, and at the same time hint at an ambiguous narrative that disrupts that nostalgia, placing the works in that uncanny space between the known and unknown.

Your practice is a constant dialogue between photography and oil painting. What unique qualities does painting bring to an image that photography cannot, and vice versa?

When I view a representational painting, I always look for how individual marks compile into a single, larger image. It often appears as hundreds to thousands of movements, which inherently expresses that one image or abstraction is worth investing effort and time into. In this way paintings to me feel monumental and singular, as it would be near impossible to replicate the same brushwork across multiple canvases (at least with my approach to painting). On the other hand, when I view a photo I see it as a documentation of a moving story, suggesting that there is more than what is behind that single snapshot; and in many cases there is, as I take hundreds of photos to be subjects for my paintings. By attempting to combine these mediums I want to get the best of both worlds: one image that stands as a singular, unique expression of effort, which through repetition and its appearance as photography, is also a part of a larger world that my viewer can explore.

Many of your subjects depict everyday residential scenes. What does “home” represent in your work?

“Home” in my work functions as the element of familiarity in the “uncanny” equation. I hope by returning to these residential environments I evoke memories in my viewer. I want them to be able to vividly recall a similar environment, envision walking through the canvas into the space they are confronted with. But I feel like everyone has a different relationship to the word “home,” and I’m not sure if it is the best word to describe how I employ that feeling in my work. Instead, I think “nostalgia” is more accurate.

Light, shadow, and contrast play a strong role in your work. Which artists or movements have influenced you in that regard?

The element of light and contrast make up a large area of my focus in painting, and I turn to many artists and movements when considering how to wield it in my work. I have been inspired most by the paintings of Edward Hopper and Hans Emmenegger when it comes to considering lighting, specifically how you can combine light and form to achieve a realistic stylization. You can observe this in Hopper’s paintings of houses and commercial spaces, as well as Emenegger’s forest paintings. Additionally, I am also inspired by the street photography of Brassai, specifically his night photography of Paris. In all these artist’s works a melancholic, yet familiar atmosphere is achieved through how they employ light and contrast on familiar spaces, which is something I aim to communicate in my work as well.

Also, I try to approach the composition light in my paintings the same way it’s used in horror video games. Often, the player is put in a dark environment, and game designers intentionally place sources of light to act as way-finders for the player to navigate the area. I want to do the same thing in my work, suggesting to the viewer that the story continues if they journey down the path and toward the light.

How do you see your work evolving over the next five years? Are there themes or mediums you’d like to explore?

I do think my work will evolve in the future by extending my practice into different mediums, as I have been planning some video work in the coming future, as well as getting more into drawing and acrylic painting. Additionally, I feel like my work is becoming more interested in the theme of narrative, so I hope to extend my explorations into different forms of storytelling, such as comic books and film. There is much more to come! 🙂

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To learn and see more of Ash Godley work: website + Instagram.