For me, art has never been about executing a preconceived idea. It is far more about discovery — about following an impulse and seeing where it leads.
The process usually begins with a small spark: a fleeting detail that catches my eye, a sketch made on my iPad, or an image captured quickly on my phone. Over time, these fragments accumulate into what I think of as a digital sketchbook — a loose, evolving archive of photographs, drawings, AI-generated studies, and partial paintings.
Rarely do I begin a piece with a clear image of what the finished work should look like. Instead, I approach each new project much the way one might enter a forest: guided by instinct rather than a map, attentive to subtle shifts in light and direction. The path is not always efficient. There are wrong turns and moments of uncertainty. But it is precisely this openness — the willingness to proceed without certainty — that allows unexpected discoveries to emerge.
At the center of my practice is layering.
I build each piece gradually, combining pencil marks, brushstrokes, digital textures, and fragments drawn from my sketchbook into a single evolving composition. Each layer responds to what came before it — sometimes reinforcing an idea, sometimes disrupting it.
As the image develops, the sense of authorship begins to shift. Rather than feeling as though I am directing the work, I often feel as though I am listening to it, responding to what it suggests next. The back-and-forth between intention and reaction introduces a level of spontaneity that keeps the process alive. It is this dialogue — this refusal to settle too quickly — that continues to fuel my engagement with making art.
My affinity for layered thinking has its roots in my training as an architect.
Before digital tools became standard, architectural design relied heavily on tracing paper and mylar. Drawings were built up through stacked layers, each one testing an idea, refining a proportion, or challenging an assumption. Solutions emerged not through a single decisive gesture, but through accumulation and revision.
That way of working remains deeply embedded in how I approach art today. The digital canvas has replaced the drafting table, but the logic is the same: explore, test, adjust, and refine. Each layer is provisional — a step in an ongoing conversation rather than a final answer.
Once the individual layers begin to feel resolved, blending becomes the focus.
This is the moment when the work shifts from a collection of elements to a unified whole. Through blending, edges soften, relationships deepen, and disparate parts begin to speak the same visual language. The image starts to breathe.
It is often here that the piece reveals its character. What began as a loose accumulation of ideas coalesces into something cohesive — not because every element is fully visible, but because they have learned how to coexist.
The finished work is often a surprise, even to me. But the satisfaction lies as much in the journey as in the outcome.
Each piece carries the memory of its own making — the false starts, the revisions, the moments of hesitation, and the small breakthroughs that redirected its course. Even missteps play a role, often prompting directions I might never have reached intentionally.
This ongoing process of layering, blending, and discovery keeps my practice engaged and forward-looking. It allows me to take advantage of digital tools while remaining connected to the tactile, iterative methods that first shaped how I think.
In the end, the finished artwork is not simply an image. It is a quiet record of attention, curiosity, and persistence — a reflection of the path taken rather than a destination imposed.
Most rooms begin with practical decisions — the sofa that fits, the table that works, the lighting that doesn’t compete with everyday life. But when people talk about a room they love, they rarely mention the furniture first. They talk about what the room feels like.
How artist David Faulkner uses storytelling to guide his artistic process —creating open-ended works that invite viewers to project their own stories and meanings into his work.
As 2023 came to a close, I found myself searching for a new direction. Having spent decades leading retail design teams for large corporations, I realized I didn’t want to return to the world of endless meetings, travel, and emails that required me to delegate the creative work I love to others.