Paul Glaw’s body of work reveals a colourful painterly practice based on highly structured yet aesthetically imbued approach to figuration. That being said, the majority of paintings show humanish figures that form the focal point in each of his paintings represented in the work as a silhouette with focus on their elongated silhouette rather than anatomical features, including no hair, smooth skin, and no other indicators of individuality. These figures are treated in this way as recurring sources helping Glaw to experiment a variation through the use of different poses, gestures, and colour palette.
The artist has developed a very strong and deliberate use of color throughout his imagery. Most of the colors used in his canvases, such as in ‘Das schöne Fleisch der Kommunikationare’ or ‘Die große Premiere, made up of predominately saturated blues and very intense oranges; therefore, both colours provide direct contrast to each other rendering a dynamic dialogue with one another within the composition. Thus, the way that color is used in the works not only creates a tension visually along with the use of space, but also brings up a meaningful coding placement within the same compositions. For example, a blue or orange figure is usually located in the foreground or centre of the composition, while the background has at least one figure that prevents the observer from seeing the other part of the composition due to the size of the figure.
words: yannis kostarias
In several paintings, the orange figure is also located in either the centre or the foreground, which creates a change in the hierarchy of color as previously expressed in the completed paintings. In terms of the chromatic clarity in his paintings, the depictive surface has a smooth finish with very few visible brush strokes, creating flat but very bright areas of colour. At the same time, there are parts of the work which exhibit some soft diffusion, particularly around the face, where some blurring occurs; this creates an area of some uncertainty, and therefore disrupts the clean definition of the figure form. Perhaps, ambiguity could be seen as a crucial matter in Glaw’s figures’ visual identity.
There are also consistent and repetitive motif elements evident throughout the works, in terms of the repetition of specific bodily gesture configurations. A defining feature of his arrangements is the use of ‘hands’: they are often depicted with an exaggerated scale, in an almost abstract form, and frequently are displayed in ambiguous positions. The fingers are shown to extend, bend, or press onto other surfaces to draw our attention to their physical shape rather than their function. Painitng ‘Wer wagt es, sich den donerden Zügen entgegenzustellen‘ seems to be a good example to examine these visual themes.
The creative interplay between his human figures and the surrounding space are key principles for arranging the compositions in the artist’s body of work. Often the background consists of flat, uninterrupted areas of color or minimally articulated interiors so that the figures are able to establish themselves as visually dominant elements. These oscillating relationships create a fluid interplay of spatial ambiguity versus minimal context in the way that the body and setting interact, making it possible for the figure to appear either embedded within or separate from its surroundings.
The body of work as a whole has evolved in both compositional density and chromatic saturation. For example, earlier works tend to have fewer elements and a clearer distinction between figure and ground than more recent works, which tend to display much denser arrangements, overlapping forms, and an increased intensity of color application – particularly evident in the use of orange as a major field. Despite these changes in density and color, the artist has remained consistent in their technical approach: smooth surfaces, sharply defined silhouettes, and a commitment to exploring the expressive potential of simplified human forms.
How would you define your work in a few words (ideally in 3 words)?
Figurative, surreal, searching
Could you give us some insights into your new work “OT (Youths with Splinter)” (2025)? Is there a particular story behind this new painting?
This painting was created during a residency fellowship. I had peace and time, which inscribed itself directly into the work. The calm is almost palpable. It depicts a personal moment between two friends. I painted this from memory — from what is inherent to painting: the power of remembrance. Two figures who have sat down because their feet are full of splinters from all the walking. Where they come from, we don’t know — perhaps from nowhere, perhaps on their way to nowhere? Yet they are absorbed in their work and seem content with what they are doing. We see a scene where we simply wait for them to pull out the splinters. Taking time for something, waiting, or simply lingering — that is what we lack today. This is the situation I tried to capture here.
The color dialogue between blue and orange is a hallmark of your work, in which you typically contrast saturated blue and orange strongly — can you tell us how you engage with this color dialogue in your paintings?
I developed this dialogue between blue and orange over the last nine years. At first, I placed the two colors opposite each other rather aimlessly — the way they naturally function, as complementary colors. Back then, I had no clear sense of what just two colors could achieve. But when they are mixed together, or applied in glazed layers, or an oil pastel cadmium orange runs over a thickly dried ultramarine blue (light), a mutually reinforcing effect emerges. The colors no longer merely stand opposite each other — they enter into dialogue and support one another. They glow far more intensely than when used individually. I now regard blue and orange as independent bodies that seek out their own position on the canvas. I typically begin with a darker version of either blue or orange and work my way toward lighter tones. From dark into light. For me, the warmth of orange is usually linked to a figure in the painting that carries the true leading role. The blue figures are often the aggressors — though not always. They are displaced, illuminated, and marked by the orange. In my earlier works, this gave rise to a struggle for interpretive dominance on the canvas. Over the years, however, that tension softened. The figures from last year looked almost worn out and exhausted from the fight, and since this year I have entered my orange phase — seeking even more warmth and light in what appear to be monochromatic compositions. The blue slowly shifts toward violet through a scarlet red, and in combination with orange it dissolves into something agreeable. The confrontation gradually settles and becomes a reminiscence. That is perhaps how it is with time — it soothes you.
The human figures in your canvases appear simplified without losing any expressiveness — they are highly communicative. How do you manage to maintain the stylization without neglecting anatomical structure?
Strictly speaking, I neglect quite a lot when it comes to the figures. Sometimes the ears are missing, sometimes the feet are chunky lumps, and occasionally the faces look like simple drawings. What I never neglect, however, are the movements and poses — because I believe that posture reveals a great deal about how figures relate to one another. Body language is universal and can be read by most people. Through gestures and bodily movement, we can convey emotion. Nothing needs to be verbalized; we simply have to look and understand. My former professor Jutta Koether once gave me a helpful insight: that it doesn’t matter what is happening in a picture until the details are added. It is only the details that shape the result. Our visual habits work in exactly this way. When we look at a person, we can take them in from head to toe at a glance, but our focus will only be sharp on one detail. That is why it is not so important to me whether the arms, legs, or an ear are fully articulated — because I want to represent a specific focus. In doing so, I guide the viewer’s gaze toward particular details. This does not dissolve the picture’s narrative, but it does provide a direction for what should be seen. Certain details are also deliberately repeated in order to create memories, so that they can take hold.
The facial expressions of your figures vary throughout your work, becoming a recurring motif. Since human expressive gestures are among the strong elements of your compositions — what fascinates you about them?
Painting is nonverbal — it works through looking, watching, and understanding. Through our eyes we perceive the world, and we often only believe what we see with our own eyes. Yet that, too, can be deceptive. When we look into faces, we look into a mirror. Since we can only truly observe our own face in a mirror, we match the facial expressions of others against our own. This happens subconsciously, and yet we can sense what others communicate through their features. We will never be able to draw definitive conclusions about the truth from this — but we approach it, and we are given the opportunity, for a brief moment, to be part of what we see. This situation makes us empathetic and allows us to better understand what we are looking at. This process allows me to bind the viewer to my painting, and in doing so, the story I tell is carried forward. It stays alive.
The small details — such as hands, faces, or objects like mirrors and flowers — seem very deliberate and consciously placed. How do you decide on their function within the overall composition?
As mentioned at the outset, the details become the key moment of the entire work. In my repertoire I have many things, like items in a prop store. I can simply choose from among them and they find their place in the image almost automatically. I don’t search for them meticulously — they come to me by chance. And I think that is the decisive point. As randomly as I find them, so clearly do they then have their place in the painting, in the scene where they are meant to occur. These things, these objects, surround me physically. They sit at my home or in the studio and are present at all times. When I stretch a canvas and begin to paint, I don’t yet think about the details at all. Quite the opposite — I start quite roughly and become ever finer in my rendering. I work out the subtleties like a sculptor. I let happen what comes, since I don’t make any preliminary sketches either. I settle into the picture and wait until the details are ready to find their place. Then I go into my store of objects, hold them up to the painting — and all by themselves, they find where they belong, and I paint them in.
Do certain works arise through chance experiments in your studio, or do you generally begin with a concrete concept or a specific narrative at the start of your artistic process?
My works have by now developed their own pictorial world in which everything takes place. Nothing happens by chance anymore — rather by intuition. I am a seeker, and I find what wishes to be found by me. You can approach something from many directions and never arrive at the result you had dreamed of beforehand. But I am a great believer in process-oriented working. Because in the process, all the skills you have acquired over the years tend to surface. Some may have been forgotten and then make their grand reappearance. I like that — trusting in one’s own craft. And it is in this mode that my works come into being. I make no sketches; the pictures are usually already complete in my head, and I go straight to work on the canvas. In doing so, I trust entirely in my abilities and the material. Everything is there and may be used. The act of painting itself is a meditative moment, regardless of whether the picture emerges quickly or slowly. I can rely on myself in this. There are also moments when a finished painting calls for a continuation — that is how series come about for me. But in principle, I never paint a picture again. Every work is unique and contributes a part to the complex story. My paintings are like snapshots, and moments are never the same — they can feel alike, and yet they will only ever happen once, exactly as they happen.
What are your plans for the near future?
I want to continue developing my work and create even greater visibility for the themes I address. I would love to have a museum show and am planning further exhibitions abroad as well — in Paris, Luxembourg, Belgrade, and Puglia. I imagine diving deeper into my orange phase, with my works suffusing every space in a warm, soothing light.
all images courtesy of the artist