Dear ,

“Man’s word is his wand filled with magic and power!” So I speak a word for Substack: let the fog be lifted.

You are co-founder and CEO of Substack, and therefore the steward of a very delicate idea: that the writer and reader may meet without the din of the marketplace, without the cracked cymbals of social vanity, without the little goblins of the algorithm crying, “Look at me! Like me! Restack me!”

Substack came to many of us as a promise of right conditions. Writing over posting. Readers over mobs. A direct channel, not a carnival. You have said, in substance, that Substack should help audiences reclaim their attention and escape the doomscroll. That is a beautiful word to speak over the world. But a word must be followed by its demonstration.

Then the reader opens the mobile phone application.

And there, where he asked for sourdough bread, he receives confetti.

Notes. Notes from people he follows. Notes from people adjacent to people he follows. Notes recommended through the extended Substack network. Restacks, replies, comments, and conversational vapor.

The Home tab, by Substack’s own description, is not a quiet reading room; it is a mixed mental atmosphere of posts, notes, recommendations, and conversations. The Inbox may still hold chronological posts, but the front door feels increasingly like a bazaar.

“Nothing on earth can resist an absolutely nonresistant person,” once wrote a wise woman.   But this is not nonresistance; this is reader fatigue. The user is not resisting discovery. He is resisting being shown every passing mental postcard when he came to read a letter.

A recent reader complaint asked, in effect: where is the simple, chronological feed of posts from the Substacks I subscribe to? Another new reader said Home felt mostly like Notes, “some FB/Twitter thing rather than a place to read the writings of those I follow.” Others complain that Notes has become follow-for-follow, personal-brand soup, and a distracting social layer they wish they could remove.

This is the mud pie on your desk, Chris: not that Notes exists, but that Notes has become the thing readers must bless, mute, dodge, decipher, and spiritually overcome before reaching the writing.

There is also the matter of slop.

Slop is not poor writing. Poor writing may be alive, shy, awkward, and on its way to glory. Slop is dead on arrival. It is content without incarnation. It has no pulse. It has no wound. It has no risk. It is the wilderness before it blossoms as the rose.

AI is not, of itself, the enemy. A tool may be used under grace or under greed. Substack’s own survey says 45.4% of surveyed publishers use AI, mostly for research, proofreading, ideation, and productivity. So be it. But a platform built on trust must not be coy about the difference between a human being using a tool and a tool wearing a human face.

“A person who knows the power of the word becomes very careful of his conversation.”  A platform that knows the power of attention must become very careful of its feed.

So here is the word I ask you to speak in product form:

1. Give readers a Posts-first feed.

2. Give readers a Notes-off switch.

3. Give readers a chronological posts-only default that does not have to be hunted like a lost coin.

4. Give writers stronger, visible tools for AI-use disclosure.

5. Give everyone better ways to mute engagement bait, growth-hacking rituals, and the ambient mist of “let’s grow together” performance.

For a feed is not neutral. Discovery is not a meadow. Recommendation is not a breeze. A feed is machinery, and machinery always carries intention.

“Every man is a golden link in the chain of my good.”  Let Notes be a golden link for those who want it. But do not make it the chain across the library door.

Substack’s right work is not to become Twitter in a linen jacket. Its right work is to protect the direct line between the writer and the reader. Its right work is to make attention feel clean again.

I speak the Word for Substack: let the right feed appear in the right way. Let the Posts feed be restored, plain and blessed. Let Notes take its right place, and not another’s. Let all slop dissolve and dissipate, and let the Divine Idea of the platform come to pass: writers writing, readers reading, and attention no longer dragged through the marketplace by its collar.

Young Christopher, we know you’re trying your best! Your word is your wand! Like Adam, You have the power!

F.S.

New York.

It’ll be worth it, I promise.

If you’re new here, I’m SLART, a British Outsider Artist documenting my journey and art practice.

I’ve recently got a new studio space (more on that soon) and I’m restructuring my employment model from full time office to either hybrid or remote, I work full time in a tech job you see, it’s paying the bills. I’m trying to see the positive side where I can create art freely without fear of making ends meet.

On Friday 5th, I had an interview for a “Web and Growth Engineer” role which had flexible working options. A good sign was that they approached me on LinkedIn initially. I had a chat with HR first, then a chat with VP of Marketing and then a group call that included me presenting my growth plans for 20 mins then 40 mins Q and A.

I feel like I held my own, I was not perfect by all means, but I gave it my best shot. By the time my next post rolls round here, you’ll know if I’m a “Web and Growth Engineer” so send positive vibes ✨

The Art Practice Bit

I’m grateful to have stumbled across the work of . His essays have resonated with me and has got me thinking in terms of exploration rather than pandering to what’s en vogue, or looks ‘sellable’. Not that I do that, but I feel like, with the new studio, I’d like to evolve my art practice. Blackbird Rook recommended a book by Lawrence Weschler - Titled: ‘Seeing Is Forgetting the Name of the Thing One Sees: Expanded Edition’

It’s a biography of the late artist, Robert Irwin and its recommended as one of the best art books.

I’m only 20 pages in so far, but from what I can grasp, Irwin was a strong willed individual who was independent from a young age. What stood out was his emotional security.

His art practice, I can’t say much as yet, but from what I’ve seen in videos is that he was a great experimenter, who used spaces that exist to create art within. It’s got me thinking outside of painting, as much as I adore painting, there’s a whole wider world out there that could be explored.

“Art in a sense is a continual inquiry into the potential of human beings to perceive and know the world with an aesthetic bias”

Robert Irwin

mentions in this video below, some examples of using your studio as a laboratory and your art as the experiment. I’m not a man of science but this way of working piqued my interest.

One example he give was (paraphrasing) “How can I depict the feeling of a spring morning?”. Using your own curiosity to use art as a way of thinking and experimenting, rather than through expression alone as I have done previously. It goes without saying, there’s no right way ‘to art’, but I’m excited about taking things in a different direction.

I said last week that I’d come back with a polished structure but that was never going to happen in 7 days. My intention now is for my practice to unfold into a natural structure that works for me, including the new space in that.

See you next week. Feel free to tell me about your art practice in the comments.

Bye for now.

SLART

If you’d like to support me…

This week's featured artist is a close friend, fellow office plankton, peer, muse, buddy and fellow outsider, Gio Manveli.

It’s been a real pleasure to see his art practice blossom over the 4 years I’ve known him.

1. What first sparked your interest in creating art?

Honestly, boredom.

As a kid I drew a lot, before adult life happened. School, work, family, pretending to be a proper adult. For years I barely touched a paintbrush.

Then in my thirties I moved abroad, found myself staring at white walls in a new apartment, and somehow ended up painting again. It started as a way to switch my brain off after work. No big moment and desire to shake art world. No spiritual awakening either. Just paint, canvas, and a desperate need to think about something other than spreadsheets and meetings.

The funny part is that what started as a hobby slowly became the thing I cared about most.

2. What are your regrets?

The obvious one: not starting earlier.

But if I’m honest, I probably wasn’t ready earlier.

My bigger regret is spending too much time worrying about what other people would think. Whether a painting was “good enough.” Whether I was a “real artist.” Whether I had my own style yet.

The irony is that nobody was thinking about me nearly as much as I imagined.

Most growth happened when I stopped caring about what people say in comments to my art and started making work that genuinely interested me - even if it confused people, looked weird, or failed completely. My moto is “Go cringe and see what happens”.

I still make plenty of mistakes. I’ve just become more efficient at making them.

3. What wisdom would you offer someone beginning their art career, or exploring art for the first time at any stage in life?

Make more bad art.

Seriously.

Most people spend years trying to avoid making bad work, which is exactly why they never make good work.

Your first paintings will disappoint you. Your tenth probably will too. Maybe your hundredth. That’s normal. The gap between your taste and your ability is actually a good sign—it means you know what great work looks like.

Secondly: stop comparing your beginning to someone else’s middle.

Every artist you admire has a secret archive full of terrible work they hope nobody ever sees.

The difference is they kept going.

And finally - my favorite piece of advice, without which everything above becomes pointless: have fun.

Because there will be days when it feels like the world is against you. The algorithm hates you. Nobody buys. Nothing works. Those days are guaranteed.

The people who survive aren’t always the most talented. They’re the ones who genuinely enjoy the process enough to keep showing up anyway.

When you truly enjoy making art, you become surprisingly hard to stop. You show up with the persistence of an Olympic athlete - not because someone forces you to, but because you actually want to be there.

Check out my man Gio via his website.

If you'd like to explore more Drei Fragen interviews, please click the link.

…or if you’d rather. Please share this post with a friend.

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I’m a corporate bod between 9-5, artist 24/7: My plan is to go from full time office working, to hybrid/remote working, which will free up more time and space for my art practice. Since 2021, I’ve managed to fit it all in whilst:

• working full time,

• having a little child,

• having a kidney transplant and

• other life events

Now I’m putting all of my effort into leaving my current role, who praise ‘campus working’ as the key ingredient to collaboration and therefore maximising productivity (profits). I’m sick of it. I hate the open plan office, I come home every single day frazzled.

So, with the new job search progress, I’ve had many multi-stage interviews and 4 company rejections in the past couple of weeks. I have another final stage interview on Friday 5th June. Wish me luck!

My aim is to secure a hybrid working role, even fully remote. This will open up time for my art practice.

How hybrid working life will be life changing

• Hours of communting time slashed

• I could make art during lunch, or go for a walk

• More time with my daughter in the evenings

• Most importantly, head space

• Not be frazzled every evening

Going into the office is 5 days per week, 48 weeks per year is killing exausting me. I often feel guilty about this as it’s not like I’m doing backbreaking manual labour for 12 hours a day. But fuck it, you know, It can be useful to get some perspective from others less fortunate, but I’m not playing that game any more, I don’t feel great being in the office for 39 hours, especially when sometimes there’s no work to do, but you still have to pretend to be busy, it’s modern day madness.

I think it might be my age, where you tend to see the bullshittyness of the modern workplace, or more specifially the so called rat race. We’re pretty much trapped in a cycle, and I know, before you say, ‘we’re free to leave our jobs’, technically yes, but a) The job market is batshit of late, and b) it’s too risky to leave without a plan B.

Now, how can I structure my art practice? Let’s start with…

Blindspots

We all have blindspots, and that’s totally ok.

I can be hyperfocused on tasks and that feels like it consumes my entire life at the time, and totally forget said project a day later, thanks to for pointing it out here.

“ADHD, particularly in combination with the cognitive load of parenting two small children, doesn’t just make it hard to focus. It makes it hard to hold the whole picture in your head at once. I can spend three hours deep in research for a UX client and emerge having completely forgotten that I was supposed to be applying to a light festival whose deadline is tomorrow. I can be genuinely excited about building a new indoor piece on Monday and feel no connection to that excitement by Wednesday, because Wednesday has its own demands.”

Shagun Singh

I can’t tell you how relieved I felt reading that paragraph above, I start too many things, especially since working with AI tools over the past year, it’s super quick to make web prototypes now, but also super quick to waste your time, yet feel super productive.

That said, I am not lazy, I’m not stupid, I’m not incapbable of big things. Now I see that it’s a ‘bigger picture problem’, or perhaps a priorities problem. Shagan goes on to say…

”The standard advice, prioritize, focus, do one thing at a time, isn’t wrong exactly, but it assumes a kind of linear executive function that I don’t consistently have access to. What actually works better, I’ve found, is externalizing the system. If the priorities live in my head, they’ll be overwritten by whatever is most urgent or most interesting in the moment. If they live somewhere outside my head, in a map, a workflow, a structured plan I’ve written down, they survive the interruptions.”

also talks about structure and containers a lot, and it’s having an outer shell for your creative practice, where it can fit neatly inside, this can be imaginary, just so it feels coherent.

(I urge you all to read Beth’s book, Structure Magic)

“Structure Magic is a guide to manifestation and mental freedom through structure.”

What a clear one-liner.

Next week, I will tell you how the interview went, and how I have put some structure around my new art practice. I crave something external to house of of this mess in my head.

T’ra for now.

SLART

If you’d like to support me…

So this is my new plan.

Projekt Rattloch has a stepping stone called Projekt Hybrides Arbeiten. No, that sounds a bit wordy, doesn’t it. Let’s try Projekt Hybrid. Sounds cool. (Projekt Ficken Vollzeit-Büroarbeit came a close second.)

This is the plan for the stepping stone.

Over the past year-ish I’ve been going balls-deep into AI tools, blah blah. I know many people are totally against AI and I understand why, but these skills are in demand and it’s opened doors to multiple job interviews, which I’m very grateful for. I’ve enjoyed every minute of my learning journey too.

I’ve also learned, well not learned but remembered, that “painting is the thing”. I’d still very much love to have a painting-centric life by design: spending most of my time painting, ultimately replacing the working hours with painting hours instead.

So yes, the stepping stone is the move to a hybrid role. I’m exhausted from being in the office 39 hours per week, plus 7.5 hours in my car. Working in a more interesting role will keep me engaged in the daytime, then I’ll have more energy for painting in my spare time, most importantly, in the gaps between hybrid working. I could work from the studio and then paint every lunchtime, for example. That alone would be life changing for me.

That’s it for this post. More to come on progress with the hybrid working job search.

For now,

Tutti bye

SLART

Moving forward, each W̶e̶d̶n̶e̶s̶d̶a̶y̶ Monday I ask a different artist the same three questions.

This week's featured artist is a close friend, peer, muse, painting buddy and fellow beer drinker, . I just had to share his story, he is what inspired the ressurection of Drei Fragen. Enjoy!

1. What first sparked your interest in creating art?

I had been a dedicated dad and in a job that took up in excess of 80 hours a week, so when my children went to university and my new wife was able to take the load of the younger children, I moved to a less stressful job and suddenly found myself with lots of time on my hands. I became irritable and restless, then for my birthday the family bought me a digital art tablet, I started by tracing famous artworks and then recolouring them. This became addictive as I found myself lost in the process and relaxing for the first time in years. Then my sister in law, herself an accomplished artist, encouraged me to enter some pieces inspired by music into the local art fringe. She then also encouraged me to enter a show called Art Brut being curated by the one and only Steve Light. Between the two of them they encouraged me to experiment and the rest is history.

2. What are your regrets?

Only that I believed everyone else who told me I had no talent and for believing that their idea of talent was in any way linked to what I could produce. I draw, paint or create every day now, it just feels so natural.

3. What wisdom would you offer someone beginning their art career, or exploring art for the first time at any stage in life?

I would impart the same wisdom my great friends and mentors Bex and Steve game me, just do it, just enjoy it and most of all believe in yourself. You will find yourself and your path among the various pieces you create.

Check out my man Art for me at 50 on Instagram.

If you'd like to explore more Drei Fragen interviews, please click the link.

…or if you’d rather. Please share this post with a friend.

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November 12th 2025. I was scrolling on Facebook and came across this local-rag-clickbait-post that contained the most horrid comments.

The comments ranged from “You call that a woman?” to “She should be shot” and those were the least harsh.

I don’t really spend much time pondering what I’m going to paint, it comes to me as i’m just going about my business you see, and this was something that just struck me as important to share my perspective on.

Her lost, sad eyes struck me.

Reference photo:

Recently in the same studio session, I added the finishing touches to this piece…

Next up, a HUGE shoutout to for reaching her fundraising goal, thanks to all of you for donating!

Best wishes,
SLART

A quick round-up of posts from Cream of The Crop worth going back to.

Posts scroll past quickly, so I thought I'd pull ten together in one place. Nothing fancy. Just a handful that are worth another look if they slipped by first time round.

1. I'm the cream of the crop

The one that kicked this whole thing off. Where I've come from, why I started writing here, and the pull between the life I've built and the one I keep being drawn towards.

2. Give yourself permission and you'll find the way

We wait to feel ready. Ready almost never turns up on time. This one's about getting out of your own way and just starting.

3. The turtle's approach: Slow & Steady

Progress doesn't always look like progress when you're in the middle of it. A small nod to the slow route, and why it's usually the one that actually works.

4. I caught hopesickness from creative legend, Mark Denton

About the lift you get from meeting people who are already living the way you'd like to be living. Sometimes you don't need a plan. You just need to catch a bit of what they've got.

5. DREI FRAGEN with Shagun Singh

One of the Drei Fragen interviews. Short, honest conversations with other artists about making work, doubt, identity, and the rest. Shagun's is a good one.

6. Creativity Unleashed with SLART and Dean Jackson

On taking your creative life a bit more seriously. Not in a grim way, in a "this deserves real time and energy" way.

7. Memento Vivere

A bit of a milestone. The moment something I'd been quietly working on went public. Worth a read if you missed the announcement.

8. Where the Dead Lie and Art Lives: Exploring the Crypt Gallery for the first time

The behind-the-scenes version of Memento Vivere. Nerves, excitement, the "oh god this is really happening" bit. Honest about all of it.

9. Screw it, let's do it (in 6 Days)

Scrappier than most. Sometimes you stop planning and just make the thing happen. This is what that looks like.

10. We Need The Artist's 4-Minute Mile

Less about me, more about what artists can do for each other. Breaking invisible ceilings. Showing other people what's possible.

If one of them catches you, let me know which. Always nice to hear.

SLART

This is what came up during a studio session with this week. (There’s nothing like a studio sesh with a mate who loves art as much as you do, and loves beer as much as you do too.)

Cheers 🍻

WIP 🚧 (Thanks for buying me some pinkest pink pigment by Stuart Semple).

Now tell me, what do you think is going on in this piece?

For now, auf wiedersehen.

SLART

⏳ 30 second read, 30 second action…

Ignore if you’ve read already…

Art is my life. But when I see amazing people like Beth Raps create a promise to raise funds for a refugee project that will make a real difference and not get absorbed by a charity CEO’s salary, I just had to share.

Beth runs RAISING CLARITY, and she’s one of those rare people who actually puts her energy where her mouth is. Not performatively. Not for clout. She just gets on with making things better, and she’s bloody good at it.

She’s committed to raising $5,250 for a small, community-based solar installation in a refugee camp in Kenya, run by the United Nations High Commission on Refugees. She’s already 40% there and the deadline is tomorrow, so this is proper urgent.

Here’s why it matters.

The community this serves is made up of queer refugees. They’ve already been through enough just to end up in the camp, but being queer is criminalised in the countries they’ve fled. Even inside the camp they’re still targeted. Still bullied. Still assaulted. Still not safe.

The solar installation will power security lights. That means safety at night. It’ll also provide the means to boil drinking water, which is scarce and expensive in the camp. Not freely provided like you’d assume. There are more benefits too, and you can read about them on the GoFundMe page.

Beth said she’d raise this by the end of March and she means it. If you can chip in, do it today.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Every £1 counts.

Thanks

SLART

Art is my life. But when I see amazing people like Beth Raps create a promise to raise funds for a refugee project that will make a real difference and not get absorbed by a charity CEO’s salary, I just had to share.

Beth runs RAISING CLARITY, and she’s one of those rare people who actually puts her energy where her mouth is. Not performatively. Not for clout. She just gets on with making things better, and she’s bloody good at it.

She’s committed to raising $5,250 for a small, community-based solar installation in a refugee camp in Kenya, run by the United Nations High Commission on Refugees. She’s already 40% there and the deadline is tomorrow, so this is proper urgent.

Here’s why it matters.

The community this serves is made up of queer refugees. They’ve already been through enough just to end up in the camp, but being queer is criminalised in the countries they’ve fled. Even inside the camp they’re still targeted. Still bullied. Still assaulted. Still not safe.

The solar installation will power security lights. That means safety at night. It’ll also provide the means to boil drinking water, which is scarce and expensive in the camp. Not freely provided like you’d assume. There are more benefits too, and you can read about them on the GoFundMe page.

Beth said she’d raise this by the end of March and she means it. If you can chip in, do it today.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Every £1 counts.

Thanks

SLART

I nearly introduced myself as a corporate drone and didn’t even flinch.

That moment hit me harder than any rejection letter. But I’m getting ahead of myself…

The last few weeks have been a strange kind of awakening. I took two weeks unpaid leave from my day job, replaced the lost income through a couple of side projects, and barely broke a sweat doing it, of which I am super grateful. It gave me a clear glimpse of what life could look like with a bit more structure and a bit less of someone else’s agenda.

Here’s the fucking uncomfortable truth I’ve been sitting with: I massively underestimate myself. I think a lot of people do. But I’m starting to actually believe in my own capability now, not in a blind hope kind of way, but in a tangible, I-built-a-thing-and-got-paid kind of way.

I’ve had four job interviews recently, three internal and one external. The external one was the eye-opener. The role pays 70% more than I currently earn. Seventy. Fucking. Percent. More. It sounds obscene until you realise how thoroughly the corporate machine has conditioned you to expect a 3% annual increase and be grateful for it. That’s been my frame of reference for over a decade. I’m approaching 44 in June and I’m only just clocking this.

I’ve been in the same role at the same company for five years. Younger, less experienced people are managing large teams around me. I say that not with bitterness, but with genuine curiosity about how I got here. I work in a gung-ho, scattered way, intensely focused when the subject interests me, and completely disengaged by meetings that exist to schedule other meetings. I’m not sure I even want to manage people. I think I’d be decent at it, because I genuinely give a shit about people. but the politics would swallow whatever satisfaction the leadership brought.

So, the external role. It’s with Pencil, a platform that builds AI-powered ad and marketing content. The job description felt like it was written for me, though I felt slightly underqualified technically. Didn’t stop me. I built a demo app for the interview task: upload a brand guidelines PDF, enter a brief, pick a format, and it generates a compliant image in about 90 seconds after multiple review layers. I tested it on McDonald’s, an old brand doc from 2019 that I found on the web. Two hours of tinkering. I was pretty pleased with it.

The interview itself was fine. The VP of Product was friendly, five weeks into the role himself, a lot of Amazon background. I felt like I held my own. He gave nothing away, no feedback, no social cues, nothing. Classic. He also mentioned mid-interview that the role would be 50/50 client-facing, not heavily technical. Almost the opposite of what was advertised. Good reminder not to take a job description as gospel.

I left the interview not really caring whether I got it or not. That felt like progress. I felt free.

Then came the moment that shook me.

A new senior manager started at my day job. Sharp, well-connected, name-dropping Netflix execs like they’re bessie mates ( will know them). During introductions I said my hobbies were basketball and pickleball, as he’s American, I challenged him to a game next week, and carried on. Not once did the word “artist” enter my mind. (Although, factually, Art is not a hobby for me)

Walking away I felt hollow. I pictured myself at 85, telling someone: “I used to make art, but life got in the way.” That image scared me more than any career uncertainty ever has. All that happened within 60 seconds of walking back to my desk.

I haven’t abandoned it. I promise. I’m in the middle of something I can’t fully talk about yet, a kind of metamorphosis, but it’s coming. The art is still there.

In the meantime: I got rejected from the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition 2026. I didn’t make the next round of the Jackson’s Art Prize either. Paying entry fees for rejections is starting to feel like a choice between self-belief and a decent meal out with the family.

Ce-la-fucking-vie.

But then the universe did its thing. Harrie Dearing and I have been gifted a new art space. Something exciting is brewing between two outsider artists. Watch this space.

Here’s a tiny sneak peek...

For now, adieu.

SLART

I crave a totally fresh start.

I’ve got six years of paintings sitting in a Big Yellow storage unit and it’s costing me money every month to keep them there. Work made between 2019 and 2025, raw figurative expressionism, pieces I’m genuinely proud of, just sitting in the dark.

That’s not what art is for.

I want that chapter of work out in the world, on walls, in homes, being looked at by people who connect with it. Not stacked in a storage unit while I pay for the privilege.

So here’s an open offer. If you run a gallery, an exhibition space, a cafe, a community venue, anywhere with walls basically, I’d love to talk. I’m offering my work on a 50% commission basis. You sell it, we split it. Simple as that. Or if you just want to display it and give it some light and air, I’m open to that conversation too.

You can see everything here:

https://www.slart.me/artwork

If something speaks to you or you think your audience would connect with it, just reply to this email. No formal process, no lengthy proposals. Just a conversation.

And if this isn’t for you but you know someone who runs a local gallery or exhibition space, feel free to forward this on. You never know.

Thanks for reading.

SLART
British Outsider Artist

Hello SLART,

Thank you for submitting your work to Jackson's Art Prize 2026.

Congratulations, we are delighted to let you know that one or more of your entries have been selected for the Extended Longlist!

View the Extended Longlist gallery here, and search by title to see which of your work(s) went through.

This year set a new record, with 16,280 entries submitted from 110 countries, meaning the competition was incredibly strong. As an artist on the Extended Longlist of 4,200 works, your works have made it to the top 26% of entries.

Stay tuned for the announcement of the Longlist on Friday 6 March.

Best wishes,
Josephine Zentner,
Jackson's Art Prize Coordinator

Send me triumphant vibes please.

Have a good week,

SLART
British Outsider Artist

My entry:

Blue Man.

P.S: what did you think of the longlist?

I’ve been questioning what art is this week. I’ve been a proponent of art having no rules, and I do still stand by that. But then what makes good art? It made me question whether popular art like Andy Warhol’s is good, or just popular. I don’t have answers to these questions but it’s given me a weird sense of freedom whereby any kind of comparison to other artists has vanished.

I’ve just been sitting with a painting that has no agenda. It feels uncomfortable and freeing at the same time:

First layers, experimenting with Payne’s grey mix, then moving on to Phthalo Blue oil paint and linseed layers. I’ve missed the luxuriousness of using oil paints, it certainly requires patience.

Have a good week,

SLART
British Outsider Artist

P.S: WHAT IS GOOD ART?… comment the first thing that comes to Mind.

From Frustration to Printing to Art

On a standard Tuesday, I felt intense boredom at work. So I decided to express some random thoughts down in a document and printed them out.

If I wasn’t an artist, it would probably come across as crazy.

There was another expression around my inner conflict between art and my day job but I’ve lost the file.

So, in the studio soon after, I started decoupaging these print-outs to a canvas and a wood board, well actually, it’s an old door from something.

This itself was extremely cathartic!

Then the day after I added another layer to the decoupage.

Calming, grounding, relaxing, freeing, forgetting.

Soon after, I was drifting off to sleep to recover from illness, when some dots joined up in my mind. I had an old unfinished piece that I’d abandoned and I had the flash of inspiration to paint it entirely red and title it “In defence of the Devil”. It had three levels, first a horned smiling figured, then I overlayed a coffin with a deceased figure in it, taken from the real-life experience, then came the red layer. I haven’t seen it dry yet so I might add another layer and show you next week.

Part of the inspiration was watching Red by John Logan, a theatre play about artist, Mark Rothko.

Thank you for being here. Until next time. Share your thoughts with me in the comments,

Good bye for now,

SLART
British Outsider Artist

P.S: Before I forget, the 2029 vision for Swindon.

I was part of the ideation session a couple of weeks ago (I hate that word but you get what I mean):

An art exhibition in 6 days? That’s madness.

Well, it happened, and I can’t tell you exactly why it happened, but I’ll try my best.

Friday: the idea lands in my noggin

It was a Friday, as I said above. I came home early from my dayjob after going in two hours earlier. The slight extra tiredness was worth the extra freedom.

I walked into Swindon town centre with my daughter to cash in a cheque. A random American cheque. A refund from Amazon Prime for fifty-dollars for not using three or more Prime benefits.

It felt like a bit of a hassle to do this. Who uses cheques in 2026? Was it a shrewd Bezos ploy, banking (pun intended) on a certain percentage of the great unwashed not bothering to cash it in? Perhaps. But I checked myself before I wrecked myself and made sure I was grateful for the unexpected money showing up in my life.

After filling in a long form, 5 hours later, or what felt like, and getting the cheque cashed, we walked back up the road past the shops, heading home, when a thought dropped into my head:

“Fika café exhibition!!!!”

Fika is a Swedish term, basically a coffee break with a bit of soul, and cakes, sounds great, right?. In Swindon (not Sweden), it’s also a local café with a proper community feel.

Three months earlier, local mixed-media artist Carmen B Norris had an exhibition there. Although I couldn’t experienece it in person, it looked fantastic. I’d messaged the café owner and said I’d pop in sometime. Life got in the way. Priorities got in the way. But I sent a messaged saying “Happy New Year, I haven’t forgotten you. I’ll pop in soon.” a few days before.

The outdated shy part of me nearly sent me straight home instead. It’s always easier to avoid the uncomfortable. But something bigger pulled me in to see Martin at Fika that day.

Then…the conversation that changed everything

I went in and ordered myself a coffee, juice for my daughter, and a tiny Cadbury’s chocolate bar for her. I introduced myself (a bit hastily), then sat down while Martin served other customers.

A kind old lady bought my daughter another chocolate bar. I caved and let her eat that one too. After all, it was a Friday.

Martin came over and sat with us a few minutes later. He was pleasant, kind-eyed, and he chatted to my toddler-age daughter, always a good sign in my book. He was trying to put her at ease, because of course, he was a stranger to her.

We talked about exhibitions, and then he mentioned something I hadn’t realised.

He may have to close down soon, due to extortionate costs and a lack of custom at the café.

That was the moment the idea stopped being a nice thought and became a small mission. I felt compelled to help. He had a couple of events coming up so there wasn’t much time to fit an exhibit in, and I found myself saying, “How about next Thursday?”

He agreed.

When the fire hits me belly 🔥

I was immediately fired up to get other artists involved. I’ve historically judged myself as a lazy person, maybe because that’s what I was told, but I’ll tell you this for nothing. When I get a fire in my belly, there’s no stopping me.

This was one of those occasions.

The idea of the exhibition sat right in the front of my prefrontal cortex, gnawing away at my attention for anything else. That evening I made an open call page, started contacting local artists, and posted on social media.

We got about ten people over that weekend. I also invited a few others I knew and had exhibited with before.

The idea was becoming a reality.

Once I had the artists and works ironed out, I set up a Facebook event. I ended up paying £20.30 for promotion, and about 100 people signed up as interested, so it seemingly worked very well. If I’d had more budget, perhaps I would’ve pushed it further.

Wednesday: setup night

Five days flew by. We had the Wednesday evening to set up the work, and it was looking fantastic. Huge thanks to Rahford Does Art, Jaksta, and Artformeat50 for helping out with the setup.

I love the alchemy of curation/creation. I don’t ever call myself a curator because not much “thought” goes into it, not in the metodical sense. It’s more of a feeling that unfolds in real time. I start with one piece and work around it.

It worked. We had a fantastic middle section that was all yellow-based work.

Oh and look at these Swedish cakes…mmmmmmmmm 🤤

Thursday: opening night

Then the day arrived.

I was excited. I didn’t know what to expect, but having experienced art openings before, made it much easier to feel prepared. We had a lovely vibe. I had my daughter with me. We were having our dinner on one of the tables. She was chilled. The music was chilled. DJ Dust did a fantastic job.

Everyone seemed happy and were enjoying the atmosphere. One piece of art sold that evening, which was amazing. It felt like a success (Another sold the day after).

A couple of local independent journalists were there too, and they started interviewing me on the spot. One was part of The Ink, right here on Substack. (Shoutout to )

What I learned

This experience made me realise something. We can fit things within whatever deadline we set. Of course there are exceptions, but still, it’s true.

When I set up Memento Vivere (September 2025), I had a year’s lead time, and that felt like too much. I could’ve done it in six months easily, maybe 3.

What would’ve made it a lot less stressful was improving the process around the exhibition.

A small example is artwork labels. You wouldn’t believe how much time that took. Not only that, but rushing around caused three misprints of the labels and one double-sided printout that wasn’t meant to be double-sided.

If we use a template in future, we can print onto labels that don’t need cutting out. Cutting out took ages too. These things may sound obvious to an organised, non-ADHD person, but they’re lessons artists learn by actually putting on exhibitions.

Next time, I want to do it faster and calmer, but without losing the spark.

Watch this space.

SLART
British Outsider Artist

P.S: This is inspiring me no end, a 2029 vision for Swindon.

More about it soon…

Learn more

I know it’s the 7th already, but, Happy New Year. You good?

This is the time of year where we feel like we need to change everything in our lives. New plans, new systems, new versions of ourselves.

This is not a lesson, because I don’t know what I’m doing.

What I do know is that this feeling is not exclusive to January. If you read through my Substack, you’ll see a pattern. Every so often, I arrive at a point where I feel like I’ve figured something out. This is the way forward. This is what I should have been doing all along. The thing I was doing before was wrong.

Then it changes again.

I go through these moments where I think I’ve cracked it, and then I feel bad for not cracking it sooner. One of the recurring examples of this is my relationship with my artwork.

This time last year, I was in the same place. I was convinced I needed to focus on my art. Then that shifted, and I told myself I needed to focus on earning money. Earning money became a separate, serious thing. That’s when AI entered the picture. Business skills. Strategy. Optimisation. All sensible. All justifiable.

And all slightly offset from the thing I kept returning to.

Then, in a moment of old habit born from frustration, I messaged a psychic named Charles.

I didn’t seek him out in any meaningful way. He appeared as an Instagram ad for a site called Nebula. One of those quiet, well targeted interruptions that arrive exactly when you’re already questioning yourself, in vulnerable mode. They pull you in with three minutes free. I tapped it without thinking. That alone probably says enough.

I asked him deep, searching questions. I asked him about the specific blocks keeping me in my day job. I asked him whether I needed to learn new business skills or just leave. I was looking for a cosmic sign that it was safe to jump.

Here is the conversation, verbatim.

The Charles Conversation

Me:
I feel stuck in a cycle. I have a day job that drains me and I want to leave to focus on my art, but I feel scattered and guilty. Can you see what the main block is that stops me from finally making the switch?

Charles:
Hello dear, nice to see you in this chat. How are you?

Me:
Good.

Charles:
Really sorry to hear about your situation. Let me pick up a card for you and see for this.

Charles:
The card that showed up is the Ten of Pentacles.

Charles:
Dear, I see this is a transitional year and the fears of leaving the job will be eliminated this year.

Me:
Thank you.

Charles:
But for this you have to work a little extra to build a firm and strong base for your art work with your full determination and enthusiasm.

Me:
I need to clarify something important. I am on a fixed salary, so working harder at my day job will not earn me any extra money. When you say “work a little extra to build a firm base,” do you specifically mean I need to put that extra work into my art business to make it profitable before I quit, or are you seeing a different income source entirely?

Charles:
Hello dear, nice to see you in this chat. How are you?

Me:
Ok.

Charles:
Allow me a moment to pick a card for you and see for this.

Charles:
The card that showed up is the Ten of Pentacles.

Charles:
This card shows that this year shows positive changes and I see new opportunities and start seeking new skills this year.

Ok, so in that last response he didn’t really answer the question directly. Whether that was deliberate or not, I don’t know. But I didn’t need to ask any more. I’d already got what I needed. Charles was fired with immediate effect.

That conversation cost $4.49 a minute for the five additional minutes after the three freebie minutes.

And that was the moment it finally landed. His response was the reminder I needed.

Focus on your art.

Growth.

Transition.

Trust yourself.

The same conclusion I keep arriving at, dressed up in different language.

Whilst pricing Ready to Fly at £25 so someone could walk away with a piece of my work for the price of a round of drinks. I was writing narratives about fragile hope blooming amidst the wreckage. I was turning my outsider status into a real art business, not a side note.

The Charles comment was the straw that broke the belief camel’s back. Not because it revealed something new, but because it made it impossible to ignore what I already knew deep down.

Something really shifted. I think.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon with great gusto, finalising the entire ten piece exhibition collection as part of a three-person group exhibition. I matched ten portraits to ten Devo songs. I built a psychological narrative for each one. I calculated the pricing strategy. I formatted the inventory list for the organisers.

I saw this: If I am serious about this art lark, my art cannot be the thing I circle back to after reassurance, learning, alignment, or permission. It has to be the thing everything else is built around. It is the foundation. It’s never been a hobby and should not be treated as such.

We are not waiting for signs.
We are not waiting for permission.
We are Devo.
And we are ready to fly.

It’s a Beautiful World.

SLART
British Outsider Artist

P.S. A few pics from said exhibition. I sold the piece when I was setting up, so grateful! The guy said the message really resonated as he was diagnosed with adult ADHD at 53 (now 70).

John’s message: