When Words Aren’t Enough with Vin Servillon

November 27, 2024

Vin Servillon shares his intriguing journey which has been anything but linear, marked by introspection, unexpected breakthroughs and moments of unpredictability. Through candid reflections, he shares how art has been a sanctuary, allowing him to lean into discomfort, with each artwork being an exercise in self-discovery and emotional resilience, helping him to find clarity in the chaos.

When did you first know you were interested in creating art?

I think I’ve always been drawn to creating, even when I was little. It started with small things - exploring textures, colours, or just scribbling. Art has always been a refuge for me, especially during times I felt misunderstood. I didn’t think of it as “art” back then, but it was my way of making sense of the world. I guess I’ve always gravitated toward the feeling of losing myself in the process. Creating is my way to connect with myself, even when I feel disconnected from others.

Can you describe your journey into painting?

My journey as an artist has been anything but linear. It’s been shaped by countless trials and errors, moments of doubt, and unexpected breakthroughs. There have been failures that taught me resilience and successes that reminded me why I chose this path in the first place. Every step - no matter how challenging - has added depth and meaning to my work, shaping it into what it is today. I think a big shift happened when I stopped worrying about whether the work was “right” and started letting it just exist as it wanted to, allowing me to create with authenticity and purpose.

What mediums and tools do you rely on most for your creative process, and why?

The materials I use are an extension of my creative process - they’re where the chaos begins to take shape. I don’t approach my work with rigid plans; instead, I let the materials guide me. Whether it’s paint, canvas, or unexpected textures, I’m drawn to how they respond to instinctive movements, layering, and experimentation.

It’s a process of discovery - sometimes frustrating, often messy, but always rewarding. There’s something incredibly human about working with materials that can surprise you, challenge you, or completely derail your ideas. It’s in those moments of unpredictability that the most honest expressions emerge. For me, creating isn’t about perfection; it’s about finding meaning in the imperfections and letting the materials tell their own story.

How would you define your artistic style, and how has it evolved over time?

My style has always been about authenticity and emotional connection. I want my work to feel tangible, like you’re not just seeing it but almost feeling it. It’s intuitive and raw, focusing on colour, texture, and form in a way that’s honest and unfiltered. I’m drawn to themes of transformation and resilience, and I try to let those ideas come through naturally in what I create.

Over time, my style has definitely evolved. In the beginning, it was more about experimenting and figuring out what worked (and what didn’t), but the heart of it - this need to connect and evoke something real - has always been there. Each trial, mistake, and breakthrough has helped shape my work into something more focused, but I’ve never wanted to follow strict rules. My process is about trusting myself and letting the work take on a life of its own.

Who or what inspires your work - are there specific themes, movements, or personal experiences that influence your art?

Sometimes I feel like neither I nor my work fit anywhere, like I’m navigating this space where I don’t fully belong. It’s hard not to question yourself when everything feels so uncertain, but I’ve come to realise that this sense of not fitting is also what makes my work uniquely mine. It reflects the messiness of trying to find your place - something I think many people can relate to, even if we don’t always talk about it.

My battles with depression and anxiety have been a constant undercurrent in my life, and they naturally find their way into my art. Creating has always been a way for me to process what I’m feeling when words aren’t enough. It’s not about making something perfect or polished; it’s about finding clarity in the chaos and giving myself permission to feel, to struggle, and to transform. My work is as much about those quiet, difficult moments as it is about the hope and resilience that follow.

How do you stay motivated and continually push yourself creatively?

Staying motivated isn’t always easy, especially when doubt creeps in or when I’m stuck in my own head. But I’ve learned to embrace the ebbs and flows of creativity - it’s not always about constant output but about allowing myself the space to recharge and reflect. When I hit a wall, I step back, whether it’s through cooking, taking a walk, or just sitting with my thoughts. Those quiet moments often spark something unexpected.

What keeps me going is the belief that there’s always something more to uncover, both in myself and in the work. I push myself creatively by leaning into discomfort and letting go of the need for control. If something isn’t working, I let myself experiment, mess things up, and try again. Failure is just as much a part of the process as success, and I’ve come to trust that every piece - whether it feels like a win or a loss - teaches me something new. That curiosity and drive to grow are what keep me coming back to the canvas.

What do you find most challenging about creating your work, and how do you overcome those challenges?

One of the biggest challenges for me is quieting the voice in my head that tells me the work isn’t good enough or that it won’t resonate with anyone. Self-doubt can be paralysing, especially when I feel like I’ve hit a creative block or when things don’t come together the way I imagined.

Another challenge is pushing through the moments when creating feels like a battle with myself - when my anxiety or depression makes it hard to even start. It’s tough to show up for the work when I’m struggling to show up for myself.

I’ve learned to overcome these challenges by leaning into the process rather than the outcome. I remind myself that not everything has to be perfect, and sometimes the most meaningful pieces come from mistakes or moments of frustration. I also give myself permission to take breaks when I need them. Walking away, doing something tactile like cooking, or even just sitting with my feelings helps me return to the work with a clearer perspective.

At the end of the day, I try to trust the process and remind myself why I create in the first place - not for validation, but because it’s how I make sense of the world and myself.

Outside of art, what other passions or hobbies do you have, and do they ever find their way into your work?

Outside of art, cooking is one of my biggest passions. There’s something therapeutic about the process - chopping, mixing, tasting - it’s tactile and creative in its own way, almost like painting. When I’m stuck in the studio, stepping into the kitchen helps me reset. I think that attention to detail, to layering flavours and textures, mirrors how I approach my art.

I’ve also always been drawn to quiet, introspective moments - whether that’s writing, walking, or just sitting with my thoughts. Those moments of stillness give me space to reflect and often inspire the emotional undertones of my work.

And oh, I also have a cat that I love so very much. He’s this little constant in my life, always there to curl up beside me or nudge me out of my head. There’s something grounding about having him around; his quiet presence reminds me to slow down and just be. In a way, even he ends up influencing my work, just by being part of the world I create in.

What advice would you give to someone just starting out who wants to develop their skills and build their own artistic style?

If you’re just starting out, my biggest piece of advice is to give yourself permission to not have it all figured out. Developing your skills and finding your style isn’t about getting it right the first time - it’s about showing up, making mistakes, and learning from them. The messier parts of the process are where the real growth happens.

Don’t be afraid to experiment. Try things that scare you or that feel completely outside of your comfort zone. The only way to discover what resonates with you is by giving yourself the freedom to explore. And don’t worry about “finding your style” too soon - your style will find you. It’s a reflection of everything you experience, everything you create, and it evolves as you do.

Most importantly, be kind to yourself. There will be days when the work feels impossible or when doubt gets the better of you. That’s normal. Keep going anyway. Create for yourself first - because you love it, because it helps you process, because it feels like home. The rest will fall into place.

And remember, there’s no one right way to be an artist. The world doesn’t need you to be perfect - it just needs you to be you.

Are there any dream projects or collaborations you hope to pursue in the future?

I’ve been lucky to have some incredible opportunities recently, like being the artist in residence at Bergdorf Goodman and just wrapping up a gallery show in Chelsea, New York City. Seeing my work displayed inside Bergdorf Goodman and featured in their iconic windows was absolutely surreal. It’s one of those moments that doesn’t fully sink in right away - it reminded me how far I’ve come and how much is still possible.

Looking ahead, I’d love to collaborate with designers or brands that value the intersection of art and everyday life, where my work can exist outside of traditional spaces. Maybe a project that merges fine art with textiles, interiors, or even large-scale installations.

My dream is to keep creating in ways that challenge me, that connect with people in unexpected ways, and that allow my work to live in spaces where it can spark something personal and meaningful for others. Whether it’s a collaboration or a solo project, I want to keep surprising myself and letting my art evolve.