Imagine stepping into a painting that feels like a half-remembered dream—an interior lit by the glow of a single lamp, a figure frozen mid-motion, the walls steeped in the weight of past conversations. This is the world of Andrew Cranston, where memory lingers like a shadow, and every brushstroke hums with quiet intensity.

Born in 1969 in Hawick, Scotland, Cranston doesn’t just paint—he excavates. His surfaces, often the linen-bound covers of old books, hold histories of their own, layered with scuffs and stains that become part of the narrative. His technique—bleaching, lacquering, collaging, and reworking—is an act of controlled alchemy, a conversation between material and memory.

His art, rich with the hues of dark green paint colors and warm brown undertones, echoes the past while remaining firmly rooted in the now. It is neither fully abstract nor strictly figurative; instead, it exists in the space between—a place where stories unfold slowly, like a novel you can’t put down.

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Echoes of Bonnard, Whispers of Kafka

Cranston’s influences are evident yet entirely his own. The intimacy of Édouard Vuillard and Pierre Bonnard, the melancholic glow of Edvard Munch, and the boldness of Henri Matisse all find echoes in his work. But there’s also something deeply literary at play. His Illustration for a Franz Kafka Story (2nd Version) doesn’t merely depict a scene—it breathes with the same unease that saturates The Metamorphosis.

In The One Light We Leave On, a dimly lit room becomes a vessel for something unspoken. Figures, half-obscured by shadow, seem to exist at the edges of perception, slipping between presence and absence. There’s a quiet eeriness, a sense that the walls remember more than they reveal.

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The Materiality of Memory: Painting on Book Covers

Cranston’s decision to paint on old book covers is no accident. These surfaces—worn, handled, imprinted with the passage of time—serve as both canvas and collaborator. Their textures, their history, become an intrinsic part of the final image, much like how oil paints absorb and reflect the energy of each layered stroke.

His 2023 exhibition Never a Joiner at Ingleby Gallery and One Day This Will Be a Long Time Ago at Karma LA (2024) showcase this approach, drawing viewers into rooms that feel as much remembered as they are imagined. His paintings are not just about what is depicted, but about what lingers—what is felt rather than seen.

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The Room as a Psychological Space

Rooms—real, invented, or lifted from literature—are a recurring motif in Cranston’s work. But these are not static interiors; they are charged spaces, alive with the ghosts of past conversations, unspoken tensions, and fleeting moments.

In Assembly (Three Musicians), figures gather in a composition that recalls Matisse’s Music, yet the atmosphere is heavier, more introspective. In Silent Treatment, the title alone hints at an unseen emotional undercurrent, a tension simmering beneath the surface. These paintings aren’t mere depictions; they are psychological spaces, interiors that hold both comfort and unease in equal measure.

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A Palette of Green, Brown, and Shadow

Color, in Cranston’s hands, is more than aesthetic—it is emotional. His paintings often lean into the depth of green paint colors, from the muted melancholy of dark green paint colors to the earthy richness of brown paint colors. These tones ground his dreamlike compositions, giving them a sense of place, a tactile reality within their ephemeral nature.

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A Legacy in the Making

From his early years as a lecturer at Gray’s School of Art to his current practice in Glasgow, Cranston has built a career that resists easy categorization. His works are housed in major collections, including the National Gallery of Scotland and the Portland Art Museum, and his exhibitions continue to captivate audiences from Edinburgh to Los Angeles.

Cranston’s career spans decades, from his early days as a lecturer at Gray’s School of Art to his current practice in Glasgow. His works are housed in prestigious collections worldwide, from the National Gallery of Scotland to the Portland Art Museum in Oregon. His exhibitions, whether in Edinburgh or Los Angeles, are as much about storytelling as they are about painting.

 

At their core, Cranston’s paintings are about connection—between past and present, viewer and subject, material and memory. They invite us to pause, to look closer, and to lose ourselves in the quiet beauty of the moment.

Andrew Cranston doesn’t just paint; he creates worlds. And in a world saturated with noise, his art reminds us of the power of quiet, the resonance of the understated, and the endless possibilities of a brush and a well-loved book.