Alexia Wright: You stayed true to your artistic vision of creating oil paintings despite being advised against this when you attended university. What kept you focused on this path?
Paul Reid: Before I went to art college, I was keen on becoming a comic book artist. I wanted to create the art I saw in comic books like Batman, Superman, and Judge Dredd. I spent all my time drawing the human figure, muscles, and action scenes. Then, when I went to college, I became interested in what they call fine art, drawing, and painting. I went into that at a time when it was very uncool.
All my tutors and lecturers said I should not focus on drawing and painting, and that I should focus on video, installation, or other exciting mediums. In the late 1990s, artists like Damien Hirst, Rachel Whiteread, and Tracey Emin were famous at the time, they were riding high then. So, for someone to come along and want to draw and paint, the reaction was a firm “no.”
I loved drawing and painting and wanted to pursue that. I put my head down and told the lecturers I would continue my way. It took a while to convince the tutors that what I was doing was worthwhile. Eventually, I found a few tutors who, like me, were interested in drawing, painting, and old masters like Velázquez and Goya.
One tutor, the head of fourth year, liked my work from the start. He came down and said, "You’re probably getting a rough time from some tutors, but I like your work, so I’ll keep coming to see you." He was encouraging and kept me going.
By the end, I earned first-class honours. I convinced them, but I had to fight a few battles along the way.
Self-portrait, (2019)
AW: You have said that as an artist, you are mainly interested in the human figure as a subject. What is it about the human body that resonates with you?
PR: That is a difficult question to answer. It is not something I think about much. I am not one of these artists who has a concept of what I want my work to say. I have an idea of what I want my art to be, and I hope it communicates things to people. But I do not have a specific message.
I have read books on the human figure and studied art based on it. It is just something I have always reacted to and felt comfortable doing. I was fascinated by anatomy, musculature, and how the human figure is put together. That also extends to animals. As can be seen in my work, I enjoy the animal-human combination. I am not very religious. I have always believed more in evolution and Darwinism as a worldview. So, I have no problem putting animal parts onto humans because I do not see human beings and animals as separate, as Christian theology might suggest.
The Bible says man is made in the image of God, and animals are to be dominated by man. Darwinism, on the other hand, teaches we are just another animal.
And, of course, I have always loved monsters, even as a kid. The Minotaur in particular fascinated me. I have always been fascinated by those things. As for your original question, why the human figure? I guess it has something to do with a sympathetic connection to the viewer. Something we all have in common and can relate to helps me draw the audience into the stories I am trying to tell through my art.
Cernunnos-Spring, 2022
AW: The subjects in your work invite viewers to experience them from diverse perspectives; for instance, in Minotaur, the figure meets the viewer’s gaze directly, while in Theseus and the Minotaur, the scene unfolds from an aerial perspective. What motivates these choices?
PR: When I pick a myth, there are many different ways these things come about. With the Minotaur, I was trying to confront the viewer with a portrait. The idea behind that piece was to present the Minotaur not as a monstrous beast, but as a creature who was more than the violent figure often depicted in fantasy art. I always thought what a horrible existence for him. The Greek myths never said whether he was truly monstrous or if he had a human brain under the bull's head. Did he have intelligence? Was he aware of his horrible existence?
I wanted to confront the viewer with an uncomfortable image of the Minotaur not coming at you violently, but sitting there, almost bored in the maze. The idea was to have him sit there, looking straight at the viewer, almost as if to say, “I am thinking, looking at you as you look at me.”
With the aerial view of Theseus and the Minotaur, I was thinking about how to visualize that strange viewpoint, especially since we are so used to seeing it in comic books, movies, and modern art. When I studied classical art, artists like Rubens, Poussin, and Velázquez probably never thought of painting from that viewpoint. The drama of having the camera angle from above felt right, partly inspired by an H.P. Lovecraft story, "Pickman's Model." In the story, an artist paints ghouls coming up from a well beneath his house, and the well caught my attention. I thought about having Theseus coming up from the well, sneaking up on the Minotaur.
I also read a version of the myth where Theseus finds the Minotaur asleep in the maze, which was different from the usual narrative where they fight and Theseus kills him. I always look at different versions of myths to find something interesting or new, and in this case, I thought it would be intriguing to have the Minotaur lying there while Theseus sneaks up on him like an assassin, knife between his teeth. Then Theseus could dispatch the Minotaur. All these ideas came together in that one image.
AW: Your art tells a story and evokes emotion, almost bringing the scene to life. How do you decide which part of a myth to focus on in your visual works?
PR:
The trick is to find that one moment that encompasses the beginning, middle, and end of the story in the most concise way.
For example, in Theseus and the Minotaur the viewer can imagine what is going to happen next and what has happened before, as Theseus has found his way through this maze. That seems like the pivotal moment for the storytelling to work both ways, seeing what is coming and what has come before. Usually, I am looking for something like that, trying to tell as much story in one image as possible without doing the comic book thing. Since oil paintings take months to complete, I want to make sure I am telling the story as well as I can with just that one image.
Theseus and the Minotaur, 2009
AW: What is it about myths and storytelling that captivates you and informs your artistic vision?
PR: This is another difficult question to answer. I think human beings have this innate love of stories and we can not help but tell them. When I was at art college, we were told paintings should not tell stories. The art critic Clement Greenberg who was famous in the 1950s and 60s in America, promoted abstract art by Jackson Pollock, Mark Rothko, and others. His idea was that painting should only be about painting, an intellectual approach with no storytelling or visuals.
At college, this was the accepted mantra: paintings should be objects, paint on canvas, nothing more. But the problem with that is that as soon as you put a line on a painting, people see a horizon and imagine a landscape. It is why artists in the 20th century experimented with flat color paintings or even turned the canvas itself into art. I thought, that is too reductionist.
I cannot help but want to tell a story. As soon as you make a few marks, people read stories into it. It seems natural to tell stories through art.
At college, I started with still lives and portraits. A tutor once said, "You’ve got great skill, but what do you want to do with it? Just paint apples and oranges?" I looked back to things I loved in childhood, and Greek myths came to mind. At the same time, I was studying Rubens and Titian. I was not classically educated; in school we read Shakespeare but not Ovid or Homer.
The first myth I read was Ted Hughes’s translation of Metamorphoses. It was not what I expected. Classical civilization seems civilized, but these stories were visceral, graphic, and violent. The first story I read was Actaeon’s death. He’s a hunter who stumbles on Artemis bathing. No mortal man is supposed to see her nude, so she flicks water on him, and he transforms into a stag, hunted and torn apart by his dogs. For someone who loved monster movies and horror films, this was incredible.
I kept reading and realized how dark, graphic, and tragic these myths are.
We think of ancient Greece as civilized, but Greek myths are primitive and archaic, from a brutal time before 5th-century Athens. These myths appealed to my imagination and gave me the subject matter I needed to develop.
Gigantomachy, 2024
AW: What draws you to Greek mythology as a central theme in your work, and how does it influence the stories you choose to tell through your art?
PR: Celtic mythology might seem more natural because of my surroundings.
I relate most to Greek myths. I think that is partly because so many great works of literature have used Greek myths as subject matter.
Norse mythology, for example, is very broken and fractured and has not been well-preserved. With Greek myths, you have Ovid, Homer, Virgil, Shakespeare, and others incorporating it into cultural storytelling. Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, Ovid's Metamorphoses, Virgil's Aeneid, Dante's Inferno, and Milton's Paradise Lost are all crammed full of Greek mythology. Norse and Celtic myths do not have that same level of integration.
Ovid's Metamorphoses, for instance, is an epic poem written during the Roman era, covering myths from the beginning of the world to Julius Caesar. It's a complete story, unlike Norse or Celtic myths, which are more fragmented and lack a unified grand scheme.
Actaeon, 2021
AW: Orion is the artwork you created to be auctioned at Tribul. What inspired the creation of this work?
PR: One of my favorite paintings is Orion by Nicolas Poussin, a French classical artist of the 17th century. It is a famous painting of a giant walking through a landscape, with a small figure on his shoulder guiding him.
Years ago, I did a version of it as an oil painting, shown in an exhibition in Edinburgh. It is very different from my current version. At the time, I didn’t include the figure on the shoulder because I wasn’t confident in how to do it. The painting depicted Orion striding through a Scottish landscape. I was not satisfied with it. Sometimes you have an idea for a painting, and parts work, but others do not. The result can be disappointing if it is not how you imagined. I always thought I would revisit Orion and approach it differently.
When I started to think about what artwork I could create for this auction, I decided to do another version of Orion, this time with the sea. I have enjoyed painting seascapes with waves in recent years. In the original myth, Orion was said to have the power to walk across the ocean without falling in, so in my version, he is ankle-deep in the water, staying true to the myth. I also wanted to include the figure on his shoulder, which I felt more confident doing this time.
All these things came together. I am not sure if it was subconscious, but both of my eyes were operated on. Everything is fine now, but as an artist, I was worried about this.
The fact that Orion is blinded and trying to cure his sight might have resonated with me on a personal level, I could relate to the story.
Orion, 2024
AW: Something is striking about the connection between the two subjects of this work, the contrast between Orion's strength and the vulnerability in his gaze, alongside the confidence of the smaller figure. From your perspective, what kind of relationship do you think these two share?
PR: When I imagined what the work would look like, I saw them as companions on a journey. The little guy, Kedalion, was given to Orion by Vulcan, the Greek God of smithing, to guide him.
Kedalion’s confidence comes from being able to see, while Orion stumbles around, blind and vulnerable. In my mind, they have been on this journey for a long time, facing it together.
The little guy must be terrified most of the time, perched high on Orion’s shoulders. It would not take much to knock him off, but he holds on to Orion’s hair, pointing him in the right direction.
AW: What was your motivation for the choice of background in this artwork?
PR: I had the idea of him wading through water after doing two or three paintings with a similar feel. That landscape vibe felt right for this piece. Initially, I pictured just water and him, maybe the sky, but after visiting Rhodes, I added cliffs that offered more visual excitement and gave it a sublime feel. I did not always enjoy painting landscapes, but now I really get lost in the details. Lately, I have enjoyed seascapes, especially painting waves, which I find calming.
Hunted, Digital Painting, 2024
AW: If you had to pick one work that best described who you are as an artist, what work would you choose and why?
PR: It would probably have to be one of my works showing the Minotaur. I am not sure why, but it encompasses everything I enjoy about mythology and hybrid creatures.
He is monstrous, but also has humanity because of his tragic story. From my earliest reading experiences, I had a thesis on the Minotaur, and I remember the illustrations. It has been important over the years, even calling myself Minotaur Man on Twitter. A gallery owner once called me “the Minotaur Man,” and it stuck.
I do not see myself as a Minotaur, but Picasso painted them from a misogynistic, sexual perspective, often with the bull as a symbol of masculinity and fertility. For me, I am more drawn to the tragic, monstrous side. It is an obvious choice, as I am most known for it. People connect me with it, so I think of it as my most important piece.
Asterion, the Minotaur, 2022
Paul Reid is an artist from Scotland with a lifelong penchant for stories. Through his work, he reimagines Greek mythology in painting. His art breathes new life into ancient gods, heroes, and myths in his unique and recognizable style. Influenced by the literary works of figures like Ovid and Homer, his pieces draw on mythology’s rich storytelling tradition. Paul’s career features numerous solo exhibitions, including Mythos and Gods, Heroes and Beasts at The Scottish Gallery. His art has been featured in group exhibitions across Europe, the United States, and Canada. His work is held in collections including the Royal Scottish Academy, the Fleming Collection, and private collections like those of J.K. Rowling and Mark Millar.
Alexia Wright believes in the power of storytelling and the importance of providing context to art. She shares this passion through writing and content creation, including the Art After Hours interview series for Tribul, and co-hosting the Collectors Call Podcast and FOMO Factor video series. As Communications Director for the Charles Csuri Estate and Head of Social Media and Marketing at Tribul, she elevates the stories behind the art. With a Master of Arts degree, Alexia stays engaged with the latest trends in art and web3.