Naomi Singleton’s work emerges from a commitment to presence, curiosity, and openness to the unexpected. Paintings evolve without strict plans, guided by lived experience, fleeting observations, and moments encountered on walks, travels, or quiet reflection. References serve as starting points, not boundaries, allowing each piece to develop its own life. Layers build slowly, mistakes are welcomed, and intuition directs the process. Every canvas is both a meditation and an experiment, a space to question, to explore, and to confront the self with honesty and care.

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How has your artistic style transformed over the years? Are there specific influences, experiments, or moments that marked a turning point?

In the last couple of years, I have been working towards a goal of painting without a strict plan. I used to approach each painting with a fixed image already in mind. I sorted every color beforehand, and focused on a single style. I drew everything to exact scale on the canvas. I always enjoyed the result, but the process was dreadful. There is nothing wrong with this method, but it disrupted my sense of peace. I felt as though I was boxing myself in, denying myself the space to experiment. Maybe I was afraid to make mistakes. 

But I want to grow, and I fear being stuck in one place, so mistakes feel necessary. I now focus on painting in the same way I want to live my life outside the studio. Change offers wonderful surprises and challenges, so I look for that in my paintings. These days, I paint without an end in sight and without expectations for the finished product. I focus on the lessons that I can learn from each painting. This had also led me towards a departure from using the photograph as a strict reference. I often start a painting with a reference, such as a live sketch, a piece of writing, or a photograph. From there, I allow the painting to take on a life of its own and do not return to the source. This shift has helped me to become more present in my process and in turn, more attentive to what calls to me.

Can you take us through the evolution of an artwork, from that first spark of inspiration to the finished piece?

A painting begins when I find myself on a walk, sitting outside, sunbathing, camping, exploring a new place, or revisiting a familiar one. I take a picture, or I might write about my surroundings while pulling together a quick sketch. When I bring these references into my studio, I imagine new worlds. One reference influences a process that unfolds layer by layer. I let go of expectations for the painting, similar to the act of taking a walk without a destination in mind. I meditate on each layer, and I let the painting take the lead, without demanding to be led in a particular direction. It is a long, slow walk, but I trust that I will know when I have arrived. In my experience, some of the best outcomes are the ones you did not expect or the ones you did not dream of. 

Can art be truly therapeutic? Have you experienced its healing power personally, or seen it impact others?

As I work on a painting, I am questioning why I am making it, what it looks like to others, and what is right or wrong. I question why I paint and the meaning of the work, as well as its authenticity. The painting process is a minefield of never-ending questions. There are hesitations and fears that arise. There are often doubts, and sometimes there is destruction. However, when a painting is finished, I learn something new. I learn about what I want or do not want, and I learn something new about my process, my goals, or something deeper about myself.

Therapy asks us to confront ourselves and grow from what we find. Through painting, I remain curious, and therefore, I am always learning. I choose to be vulnerable every time I arrive at my studio. No one ever said therapy was easy. I am rewarded by the days when the paint is flowing, my mind is clear, and I feel secure in my movement. To reach this place, I have to work through the harder parts and come out stronger on the other side. Painting is therapeutic in every sense of the word.

How important is it for viewers to understand the intended message of your work? Does ambiguity add value, or do you seek clarity in your expression?

I do not think viewers always need to know what is happening in my work. I start and finish a painting to resolve something within myself, and I do not expect the viewer to find the same resolution. I can only hope that those who experience my work have a reaction or are moved by it in their own way. I cannot tell people how to connect with the painting. My paintings are born from my own lived experience, but once they are finished, my time with them is over. I believe that art is meant to be shared, and it should be inclusive. I do not intend to take away that experience. I paint because I need clarity within my own mind, so I often do not find the message until the work is complete. Ambiguity allows viewers, alongside me, to engage, to challenge, to question, and to begin a conversation. 

Do you feel a personal connection to your subject matter is essential? How has this connection shaped your work?

It is a requirement that I have a personal connection to my work. My work is shaped by my personal experience with the world. My painting process is an effort to remember. I want to take a moment and let it live forever. If my paintings lack a connection to my past or present, I find myself lacking the will to care about them. I try to create work that gives life to an honest experience, and I build a world that is true to that experience. Color and depth are shaped by emotion, while form is inspired by presence. With this connection, I treat my paintings as if they were my children. I nurture them, I watch them grow, and I do my best to speak to them kindly. 

How do you challenge yourself to continually grow as an artist while remaining true to your voice?

Each painting is an inspiration for the next one. I never create the same thing twice. It was a moment in time, and I move on and learn from it. If I make a mark or place two colors together in a way that catches my eye, then I use that in the next painting. I think, what did I like about that pattern or gesture, and why do I find myself wanting to repeat it, and how can I repeat it differently? In this way, the work is constantly evolving. I feel as though each painting brings me closer to something, but at the same time, it will never feel like the work is done. The secret is always in the next painting. I pay attention to and take note of objects, people, and views that I am drawn to outside of the studio. Sometimes I am drawn to a tablescape or a quote. Once something new captures my attention, I need to experiment while the idea sits at the forefront of my mind.  

In a world flooded with imagery, what responsibility do artists have to stand out and say something authentic?

I believe it is vital to anyone’s sanity to be true to themselves. The more an artist stays true to themselves, the more they will attract the audience that is meant for them. If someone is pretending, they will never feel as though they belong, or they may never be welcome. They will always be at war with themselves. Everyone has something unique to offer to the world. Authenticity is becoming a rare currency, as the world on our screens is fading into an AI mess. But I’m not sure that world was ever real. I’m also not sure artists have a responsibility to do anything, but I think those who create will find a way to persevere through the threats AI, clickbait, and doom scrolling pose to humanity. 

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Across each painting, Naomi Singleton cultivates connection and authenticity, translating personal experience into worlds of color, depth, and emotion. Work balances presence with reflection, attention to detail with openness to chance, and structure with freedom. Ambiguity invites dialogue, while each mark, form, and hue reflects a commitment to lived experience and continual growth. In a world saturated with imagery, these works remain grounded in curiosity and authenticity, offering spaces where viewers can pause, reflect, and encounter something unmistakably human.