be a good one.

Paint loud. Paint love.

Original paintings, private commissions, archival prints and a full archive you can get lost in.

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Varanasi · original Open in archive

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Your place, painted loud. Private quote — conversation first.

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Museum-grade giclée. Colour for the wall that waits.

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Field notes · Fiordland

Doubtful Sound

An epic paddle through silence and granite — the kind of place that ends up on canvas. Tap a polaroid to open it full screen.

Art (Un)Block — box and card stand

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Art (Un)Block

Creative unblock deck

Prompt cards and affirmations from the studio — pull one when you’re stuck. Sold on Amazon.

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Studio playlist

Optional soundtrack.

Soft music while you wander. Art first.

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From the studio

Lines I live by

Notes from the palette — paint, process, and a little poetry.

Love is a painting. Some areas are thick, some areas are being worked on today and some areas are vast and yet to be explored.
@Sebgowerart

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Field notes · Fiordland

Doubtful Sound

An epic paddle through silence and granite — the kind of place that ends up on canvas.

From the walls

What collectors say

Real words after the paint dried — and the light hit the wall.

I needed to live with them before writing. Masterpieces. Your gift — a constant reminder to get out of MY prison. You have no idea how much I needed ‘Expression’. It’s like you know me. You have shocked me with your intuition and shocked me into change. A change I need. You allowed me to create through you… to create my own reality. To see what no-one else can. To live with what I choose to live with. Mine — all mine.

I continue to repeat myself but I’ll say it again and again. This has been the most fun. Not many get to see their commissions videoed from start to finish. You have made it all happen and I’ll never forget it. You’re an amazing artist and a good friend as well.

We absolutely love the painting. I took this video outside to show all the beautiful, amazing colors you used to create it. The natural daylight makes it come alive! That’s Haleakala Volcano’s summit in the background. Thank you so much Seb. It’s really incredible.

I’m truly transported back to the place that the work depicts but even more the vibrant colors and light bring back the emotions I felt when I was there! I don’t have the words to truly express the gratitude I feel. I’m loving it!!! I definitely feel more emotions from it now that it’s here in person.

From one maker to another — the romance, the grit, and the wilderness years.

The Dream

As a child, I would dream about Picasso and Van Gogh. I would look at their work, and lives, with passion and empathy. Imagining being them, but deep down always neglecting the whisper as a pipe dream.

It was incredible people who took my pipe dream and demanded it enter reality. Had it not been for the happiness others have felt and their demands for more, I might be pursuing another career; all the while, ignoring the little whisper of a dream that a 5-year-old boy imagined. I know that little boy would smile wide if he could see how happy his craft would one day make others.

It’s the smile of that kid and the fulfillment of others that fuels my journey. To be gifted with a craft that adds to others is the greatest gift I can imagine. When I view a canvas through this lens, self-responsibility carries the brush and the work is entirely nullified.

It’s my mission to proliferate this fulfillment and pleasure. To disseminate happiness into the hearts of everyone I can reach.

In reality, I’m floundering and have no idea what I’m doing. This is a journey reviewed in hindsight. No one cares for the naked ‘truth’ and who wants to hear about my life story? This is a dream and I’m selling the romance.

The Journey

In my early days, I would attack canvas without plans or intention, letting raw shapes, hues, and creativity run unbridled and rampant. I hold every one of these works near and dear to my heart. I would step back and marvel at them, wondering if another would see what I see. To an onlooker, this would be insanity. To me, I’d noticed the corner of a diamond in the dirt. I couldn’t stop scrapping.

I had no one watching me. Just loved ones saying words of encouragement. For the art, or me? I don’t know. Does it matter?

‘Keep going. That’s kinda’ funky.’

‘You’re a better person right now. Keep doing what you’re doing.’

In this space of love I would carve my method and refine my style. Colours, strokes, and expression would evolve into something that not only I could see, but viewers could view and ‘feel’.

I had a heart overflowing with fulfillment. Then love came from all directions. Maybe that was a prerequisite? I don’t know. I couldn’t be happier with every new person touched by my art. That passion you feel is the same passion I paint with. Thank you.

Obstacles

A happy ending, but only after a struggle. These are wilderness years. I’ll brainstorm some hurdles I faced and where things went wrong. This is where the drama occurs in my story. I was crazy, foolish, got great advice, got advice that backfired, had disastrous showings, life events, business qualms, and every little thing in between.

Here’s a list of the juiciest setbacks, wrong turns, and dead-ends to keep it entertaining. I promise to avoid any wallowing or bragging.

Not knowing what or how to charge. I was just so excited someone saw the same beauty I did. I would literally hand them the work and say ‘I really like you. Have it for free.’
Accepting commissions then crumbling away that, with full knowledge of my style, they won’t like what I make. I’d drag paintings out for months to avoid an inevitable embarrassment that ironically would never exist.
Not knowing when to stop. I would keep adding paint to works that were clearly complete. An artist desperate to make a piece I already loved ‘better’. Insanity in hindsight.
Not believing compliments or observations of others, even when they would reflect my own thoughts and feelings. Like, come on you insecure man, have a little trust and accept the kind words of strangers.
Letting exterior ideas and voices dictate and control my style… Kidding. That never happened. I’m way too perverse. In this singular case, that’s a trait of great endearment.

— Seb