Ralph knows life is short.
Which is precisely why he lives large.
He stretches glamour over a thin budget, masking his cracks with charm, wit, and a glass that’s always half-full of something strong. Ralph is both the party and the quiet ache beneath it. Most people see the performance but choose not to interrupt — it’s easier to raise another glass and keep the laughter rolling.
When I first painted him, I kept thinking about that duality:
What does it cost a person to shine this brightly?
And what happens when the lights go out?
Ralph is someone who uses humour the way others use armour. A joke, a grin, a perfectly timed comment — all small acts of emotional camouflage. He knows how to keep the atmosphere alive, how to carry the weight so others don’t feel it. It’s a generous way of being, but also a lonely one.
I’ve always been drawn to people like Ralph.
The ones who carry their shadows right behind their punchlines.
There's something deeply relatable and raw about that which I love.
Painting Ralph meant trying to catch him in the tiny second between the performance and the exhale. The moment when the mask slips not because he wants it to, but because no one can hold a smile forever. I found it to be an almost impossible task.
Ralph — finished in September 2022 — remains one of my favourite explorations of human complexity: the shimmer, the cracks, and everything we hide in between.
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