As a painter, I’ve always believed that the most valuable part of making art—beyond the solitary moments in the studio—is the conversation. The exchange of ideas, the shared challenges, the critical questions. That’s what drew me to the TURPS Banana programme.
I first discovered TURPS through its magazine, which felt like a rare gem in the art world. It wasn’t filled with academic jargon or distant critiques—it was written by painters, for painters. Artists like Marcus Harvey, Helen Hayward and Pete Ashton Jones had created something that truly resonated: a space where practitioners reflected on their own work and the work of others, sparking a dialogue that felt honest, grounded, and incredibly insightful.
When I learned that TURPS had developed a studio programme based on this ethos, I knew it was something I wanted to be part of. The programme offered exactly what I’d been looking for—a supportive yet challenging environment, led by artists, where I could focus intensely on painting while being part of a larger conversation.
From the very beginning, it was clear that TURPS wasn’t interested in prescribing a “right way” to paint. In fact, one of the things I appreciated most was their belief that good painting isn’t driven by ideology. Instead, the course encouraged openness—an atmosphere where multiple perspectives could thrive, where ideas could be tested, pushed, and reimagined.
Throughout my time on the programme, I had the chance to engage in regular talks, critiques, and mentoring sessions, and to meet visiting artists whose insights left a lasting impact. I was surrounded by like-minded painters who, like me, were eager to grow, take risks, and be part of something dynamic.
Being in the TURPS studio meant I could get out of my own head and into meaningful exchanges that challenged how I think about painting—not just my own, but the practice of painting itself. The friendships, feedback, and shared commitment among the artists I met there became a vital part of my development.
Looking back, the TURPS experience was transformative. It gave me a stronger voice, both in my work and in how I talk about it. It reminded me that painting is—and always has been—a conversation. And I’m grateful to now be part of that ongoing dialogue.