Mark Liam Smith
Mark Liam Smith is an oil painter based in Toronto, Canada. He developed an interest in art at an early age and spent much of his childhood drawing obsessively. After completing three bachelor’s degrees (in Painting, Physiology, and Linguistics) at the University of Saskatchewan, he spent many years working in Linguistics before returning to art.
Smith is colorblind, and his palette reflects that: he uses highly saturated, often non-local colors to render his realistic still lifes. He draws from his linguistics background to inject narrative and symbolism into his paintings. Since he began painting professionally in 2015, he has shown his work in dozens of exhibitions and art fairs around the world, including SCOPE Basel, PULSE Art Fair in Miami Beach, Affordable Art Fair in NYC, Satellite Art Fair in NYC, Art Seattle, Art Toronto, and Papier Art Fair in Montreal. When he’s not painting, he teaches millions how to draw and paint on social media.
Artist Statement
I re-examine 17th-century Flemish still life painting through a modern lens. I am drawn to this genre of painting for its inherent beauty and symbolism: flowers representing the life cycle, accoutrements pointing to scarcity, drama, and the inevitability of death. For me, within each painting is contained a rich narrative that broaches questions from the mundane to the existential.
Though the themes are universal, the way I express them on the canvas is personal. I am colorblind, which means I have difficulty matching colors on the palette to their real-life referents. Early in my career, I attempted to paint my compositions using local colors. Over the years, however, I have come to view my color blindness not as a deficiency, but rather as a difference. As a result, I use a hyperchromatic palette in lieu of a local one, creating bouquets and memento mori that, hopefully, build on the tradition of still life painting.
What is your first memory creating?
When I was around six or seven years old, I used to spend hours drawing scenes on loose pages and then taping those pages to my bedroom walls. I covered every inch of those walls. I used to love making up little stories about the imagined people in my scenes—who they were, what they did, and where they were going.
What is your relationship to your medium? What draws you to it?
I didn’t happen upon oil paint until quite late in my artistic journey. As a kid, I drew with pencils. In university, I learned to paint with acrylic. It wasn’t until after I graduated that I tried painting with oil. I immediately took to oil paint. I liked how forgiving it was, but more importantly, I was drawn to its slow drying time. With oil paint, I can take time to consider my color choices. Being color blind, that’s especially important as I don’t have a natural intuition about colors—I have to rely on remembering mixing recipes and color theory.
What is the main thing you hope your audience takes away from your art?
That life is short. Vanitas paintings are, at their core, intended to remind us just how fleeting our time here is. From fruit to cut flowers and extinguished candles to skulls, the symbolism all points to fragility and impermanence. And, with my hyperchromatic color palette, I hope to draw attention to my color blindness and show that differences don't have to be deficiencies.
Tell us about a challenge you overcame last year.
I wrote a book! Correction: I finished a manuscript. When I’m not painting, I’m on social media teaching people to draw. My how-to-draw account earned me a book deal last year, which saw me write and illustrate more than 150 pages of drawing tutorials. The challenge was in the writing itself, obviously, but also in translating my tutorial-style videos into written form.
What is your main goal or resolution this year in terms of your art practice?
In 2024, I aim to put together another body of paintings, building on the themes of life and death that I have been working on for the last four years.
