Simon Kenny did not arrive at abstraction through formal theory but through an instinctive, lifelong engagement with making. Born in Dublin in 1976, he was drawn to sketching as early as age four, using it as a form of escape and expression amid early challenges. Following his father’s death when he was 18 months old and the resulting turmoil at home, art became a refuge and a means of emotional processing, with abstraction emerging as a way to articulate inner states that words could not capture.
Summers spent in the South of France with his grandparents offered foundational training from his grandfather, a practising artist, in classical techniques such as perspective, charcoal, pastel, colour theory, and composition. These experiences complemented his self-directed exploration. As a teenager, his work took on darker, more psychologically charged themes, reflecting an intuitive understanding of the therapeutic potential of art.
After receiving an invitation to art college (which he declined in favour of independent paths), Kenny pursued practical skills in carpentry, property development, and bespoke furniture design—years in which he honed his appreciation for materials, three-dimensional form, craftsmanship, and the interplay of structure and function, insights that later informed the layered, tactile quality of his paintings.
His full commitment to abstraction around 2008 was organic and intuitive, driven by a natural instinct to explore gesture, colour, scale, and texture as richer ways of expressing what he felt. Influences from cosmology — nebulae, galactic forces — provided metaphors for vastness and uncertainty, yielding a compelling body of work that garnered the attention of galleries and collectors worldwide, including the late Professor Stephen Hawking. Music — central to Kenny’s work — has established rhythm, pace, and synesthetic harmony in his process, with ambient and electronic musicians such as Jon Hopkins, and composers such as Nils Frahm and Hans Zimmer, informing the atmospheric build of each piece.
Today, his approach centres on advanced layering techniques. Paintings evolve through multiple stages: luminous underpaintings, bold palette-knife applications, transparent glazes, and atmospheric builds, often over extended periods. The work advances through intuition and dialogue with the canvas, with no predetermined plan. Press commentary has described his approach as that of a “radical Turner” — a recognition of the atmospheric, elemental quality that defines his canvases.
With over 100 solo exhibitions to his name, Kenny has built substantial recognition for his lyrical abstraction. His work is represented by leading UK galleries including Clarendon Fine Art and Genesis Gallery, with additional placements through Whitewall Galleries. He has also exhibited at prestigious venues such as the Saatchi Gallery. Beyond the gallery circuit, he recently shared reflections on harmony, creative search, and the emotional journey in his work at TEDxRichmond. Collected by private and corporate clients worldwide, notably across the USA, his work continues to reach an expanding international audience.
In conversation with The Exclusivist, Simon Kenny opens up about the moments, rituals, emotions, and inspirations that continue to shape his evolving practice.
Q&A With Simon Kenny
Early Life and Artistic Drive
You began painting at a very young age. Looking back, is there a particular moment or experience that made you realise art would be your lifelong pursuit?
Absolutely. I was very young, maybe six, when I really realised I wanted to be an artist. I’d been doodling with pencils, crayons, poster paints—just messing around with whatever I could get my hands on. But there’s one particular moment I remember clearly: I sketched our soda stream. It was the first time I was really praised, someone told me my art was good. From then on, I started sketching anything I laid eyes on… even my toothbrush.
Behind it all, there was something much bigger. I was trying to follow in my father’s footsteps. He had committed suicide when I was just 18 months old. I had no memory of him, but I learned from family that he was very creative—he was a draftsman, loved woodwork, played the guitar and banjo. When I realised I could draw, it felt like I was holding a part of him. That brief moment formed part of my identity. I knew then that I wanted to keep going, to be like him, so I just kept trying.
Studio Rituals and Practice
You’ve spoken about the importance of music in your studio practice. How does it shape your approach when you’re working, and are there any other routines or rituals that help you get into the mindset of painting?
Music plays an absolutely huge part in my creative process. It sets my mood and helps me ease into the flow. My playlists are full of cinematic soundtracks and ambient music that take me on this rollercoaster of emotions and feed me creatively. Music kind of carries me through the process.
Other rituals? Funny enough, before I go into the studio, I try to clear my mind of the clutter of the day—tasks, errands, all the noise. I don’t want distractions when I walk in. I want to focus on feelings, so I try to enter a kind of meditative state, even if it’s just a minute or two. I want to be fully present in the studio. Surfacing how I feel is hard enough if I’m thinking about the washing or what I need to pick up from the supermarket. Being present allows me to fully engage with what’s going on inside me.
Materials and Technique
Your paintings involve complex layering and palette knife techniques. Are there particular challenges or surprises in the process that collectors might not recognise just by looking at the finished work?
I think people are often surprised by how much of the process sits outside my immediate control. When I use a palette knife, I apply thick paint, sometimes with multiple colors loaded onto one knife. I can’t predict exactly what will happen. Even with brushes, if I’m scrubbing or using large ones, it can be unpredictable.
It’s in that uncertainty that unexpected outcomes happen. Sometimes it leads me down rabbit holes. It can be unsettling; there’s always a pause, a moment of doubt. But those moments keep the work exciting. How I respond to those marks is what matters. Each painting has a life of its own. There’s often a point where I feel like I’m being led by it—it’s a wrestling match. Collectors are often surprised by how much experimentation shapes the final piece, and that’s the beauty of it.
Emotional Connection and Mood
Your personality and mood shape each painting, influencing color choices, brushwork, and direction. How difficult is it to let go when a piece is sold, and is there a particular mood or emotional state that produces your strongest work?
My emotions are the foundation of my work. When I’m feeling positive, I’m eager to be in the studio, pouring energy onto the canvas. The work is bright and full of life. But it’s often in challenging moments—relationship struggles, hearing upsetting stories, feeling isolated—that the work takes on the most energy. It’s darker, but it feels powerful.
I always turn to art when my mood is lower. Those moments push me inward psychologically, and creativity becomes a vehicle for release. The studio is a therapeutic space where I work through fear, sadness, or questions I have. The art reflects life—the chaos, harmony, everything.
When a piece leaves the studio, it carries a fragment of me, and letting go can be bittersweet. But I love knowing that the work takes on new meaning in someone else’s hands. A viewer will see something entirely different—a reflection of their own journey, their happiness or pain. That mirror of my moment transforms into someone else’s.
Cosmic Inspiration
Stephen Hawking praised your work, saying it captured everything about space he couldn’t explain. What did his words reveal about the power of intuitive abstraction, and what did that endorsement mean to you personally?
That was a bolt from the blue. One of my representatives called me to say Hawking had purchased a couple of my pieces and made that statement. I was absolutely blown away.
As a kid, I stared at the stars, intimidated and fascinated by their vastness. I spent years reading about the cosmos, following Hubble, absorbing those incredible images of nebulae and galaxies. To have someone like Hawking recognise and enjoy my work—it was amazing.
I think he was searching for meaning in the universe, and I’m searching for meaning in my work. There’s a spiritual element, a bigger picture connected to consciousness, how information is contained in matter and energy on a vast scale. My paintings try to bring some of that unknowable quality into reality. Hawking’s endorsement gave me pride and renewed hunger to continue exploring that unknown space through my art.
Collector Experience
Does knowing where a piece will live influence your approach? How do you balance instinct with a collector’s expectations?
Most of my work is created with complete artistic freedom. When I’m working on a commissioned piece, the approach changes. Sometimes I have full license, sometimes there’s a strict brief. Working with interior designers or home stagers can be challenging—they might send fabrics, materials, or color palettes. The painting has to harmonise with the space.
Even then, I still manifest it through my vision. I’ve learned to get excited about what I may be faced with. A brief doesn’t lessen the work; it’s my version of someone else’s idea. Seeing the piece in its home makes the challenges worthwhile.
Collecting and Prized Possessions
Do you collect anything yourself? What’s your most prized possession?
I collect art, objects, and rare finds. A pebble on the beach, a piece of driftwood—if I think it’s beautiful, it comes home. Sometimes I polish it, turn it into furniture or lamps, other times I just look at it and reflect on the planet’s beauty.
I also own artworks, sculptures, and ceramics with huge sentimental value. It’s not about money. I’m drawn to objects with history, craftsmanship, creativity—the human ability to create is the most wonderful gift. If I can capture a piece of someone else’s creative magic, I’m happy.
Final Reflections
Kenny’s artwork occupies a distinctive position within contemporary lyrical abstraction — fusing atmospheric depth with emotional immediacy in a way that feels uniquely his own. What draws collectors is not just the quality and visual richness of his layering, but a resonance that goes beyond the canvas — creating space for reflection without prescribing meaning.
Simon Kenny Official Website | Instagram
Photo credits (right-hand side) © Simon Kenny
