Ru Knox is a classically trained British artist based in London whose huge abstract figurative canvases defy easy categorisation, communicating a visceral and overwhelming maelstrom of emotion. The dreamlike quality of the work also represents something of an artistic rebellion for the painter. After qualifying in architectural interior design, Knox spent nearly a decade training and teaching academic drawing and oil painting with ultra-establishment school Charles H. Cecil in Italy, where he focused on portraiture, fulfilling commissions and gaining recognition from mainstream galleries, such as The Mall Galleries, London and Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. However, classical portraiture would prove too restrictive for his imagination, and he went to ground for some time, unlearning much of what had been instilled. Then, in New York last summer a radical new direction in his work was unveiled at Guerin Projects to critical acclaim, exploding him into the arena of contemporary art. Ahead of his inclusion in START KX at King's Cross Town Hall in October, House Collective Journal took some time out with the painter to discuss painting as emotional catharsis, and bridging the psychological fugue between objective reality and the surreal vistas of the inner world.
How would you describe yourself as an artist?
I’m a visual artist working primarily in mixed media, focusing on abstract and semi-figurative painting. Though classically trained as a portrait painter, I found traditional approaches too limiting, leading me to adopt a more experimental and expressive style. This transition has enabled me to explore a balance between structure and spontaneity, embracing unpredictability while remaining connected to themes of human experience and emotion. I'm attracted to the unusual, the unexpected, and the extraordinary – anything that transcends the everyday. It might be an experience that alters my perspective or a material that helps convey a particular idea. Whether it’s something I can’t quite understand or something deeply moving, I’m always drawn to what feels unfamiliar or transformative.
What would you say you are exploring in this latest series of paintings?
I’m exploring hypnagogic and hypnopompic states – the moments between wakefulness and sleep where reality and dreams intersect. The semi-figurative elements represent tangible aspects of reality, while the abstract elements reflect the dreamlike imagination. Though I guide the narrative more than in previous work, I still leave enough space for the viewer’s thoughts and interpretations to flow. My aim is to evoke a sense of wonder and contemplation, inviting exploration of the boundary between reality and the inner world.
What do you hope a viewer will experience in encountering your paintings?
I hope my work sparks ideas, allowing viewers to see their own stories and emotions reflected in it, recognising familiar experiences. I want the ambiguous and layered elements to evolve in the viewer’s mind, influenced by their emotional state and the context in which they encounter the work. This interaction can prompt conversations about their interpretations, making the art feel dynamic rather than a static narrative. Ultimately, I want my work to inspire new questions and insights they may not have considered before.
Where would you say your creative drive stems from?
I don’t recall a specific eureka moment, but I’ve always felt the need to create. As a child, drawing became my main form of expression, and I realised early on that getting ideas out – whatever the medium – was cathartic and necessary for me. It was a way to process the world, and I’ve followed that instinct ever since. I have never followed a fixed method; I approach each painting differently to avoid formulaic results. This keeps the process fresh, and often, mistakes lead the work in unexpected and more interesting directions. I don’t feel like I’m truly creating when I have a clear image of the final piece – that’s why I moved away from classical portraiture. The predictability of that process became tedious. Relinquishing control to the materials and embracing accidents makes the journey more of an adventure. Music frequently guides me, and I feel my best work is shaped by a range of emotional states, evolving as I go.
Which artist or artists most inspire you and why?
Beethoven, because music is probably my biggest influence; it aligns closely with what I aim to achieve in my paintings. With music, you can feel everything without needing to articulate why or what it represents. The figurative elements in my work might symbolise vocals, while the absence of a clear narrative mirrors the lack of lyrics. I experience mild synaesthesia, where sound and visuals are intertwined, and I hope others can sense that connection too. I aspire to create a bridge between the senses, and painting music feels like a natural way to explore that idea. Creative expression acts as a mirror, reflecting internal thoughts and emotions in a cathartic way. When ideas build up, they can feel overwhelming. Through art, I gain clarity, finding a meaningful way to communicate those feelings to myself and others. It helps me articulate emotions that might otherwise remain unspoken.
Images (top to bottom): Ascending, Caprice, Kaleiding. Courtesy of Ru Knox.
Ru Know brings his work to London this October at StART KX at Town Hall by Boccaccio in London's King's Cross. Find out more about the artist here.
