Has moving to upstate New York influenced your work?

Yes, it’s been a pivotal shift—not just in my environment, but in my entire approach to painting. I previously worked representationally, and directly from life. I’d typically paint from observation, responding to the immediacy of the urban landscape around me.

Passages, Oil on canvas,  60 x 60 inches, 2024

But after moving to upstate New York, that immediacy changed. I was no longer immersed in the city. As a result, my process evolved. I started to work more from memory, digital photographs, and layered reference images. The cityscapes I paint now are less about direct observation and more about reinterpretation, drawing from multiple sources and letting the image unravel and re-form through the act of painting.

Echoes, Oil on canvas, 72 x 72 inches, 2025

This distance—both physical and emotional—has allowed me to abstract my work more freely. The structures are still there, but they have become more fragmented and layered. I’m not trying to replicate a specific street or skyline anymore; I’m exploring the memory of place, the sensation of movement through space, and the emotional residue that certain environments leave behind. Living in upstate New York has given me the mental and visual distance to see cities differently—to deconstruct them, rebuild them, and let them exist somewhere between memory and imagination.

Topography, Oil on canvas, 48 x 36 inches, 2023

Have you always lived in a city?

Not always. I have lived in both rural and urban settings at different times in my life, and each has shaped how I see and make art. Cities certainly left a strong imprint on me—the visual density, the constant movement, the layering of architecture and history. But I also carry with me a deep appreciation for quieter, more spacious environments. Living in a city sharpened my interest in complexity and impermanence, while more rural places have helped me slow down and notice the subtle shifts—the light, the texture of surfaces, the silence between things. Both experiences feed my work in different ways.

Expanding Space,  Oil on canvas, 48 x 72 inches, 2024

How do you find the locations to paint?  Are they actual locations?

I find locations from both digital source images and from real locations—a street I have walked, a building I have seen, or a city I have experienced firsthand. But the final painting is not about replicating that place. I use the original setting more like a point of departure. Over time, it gets filtered through memory, emotion, and intuition. Often, several different places will merge in a single painting, or a real location will become abstracted to the point where only the feeling remains. I’m less interested in documenting a site than in evoking its essence—how the city feels, and what it reveals about change, time, or resilience.

Excerpt, Oil on canvas, 48 x 48 inches, 2023

Comment on the importance of painting, “now” as a record for history.

I think painting now—being present with the current moment—is a form of witness. Cities change rapidly. Landscapes shift. Even places we think of as permanent are constantly evolving.

Reflections, Oil on canvas, 44 x 60 inches, 2022

Through painting, I’m trying to hold onto fragments of that movement. It’s not just about recording buildings or streetscapes, but about capturing the atmosphere, the emotional texture of a moment in time. In a way, every painting becomes a kind of artifact—one that says, “this is how it felt to be here, now.” Long after a building is torn down or a neighborhood transforms, that feeling can still live on in paint. That’s what excites me: the idea that painting can serve both as a personal record and a broader historical echo.

Are your cityscapes always in daylight?

Not necessarily, but the paintings may seem that way. While some pieces lean toward daylight, I’m often drawn to transitional lights such as dusk, or early morning. Those are the times when a place can feel most alive or mysterious. There’s something about the in-between light that magnifies the color and invites a deeper emotional reading of a scene. Shadows stretch, colors deepen, and forms begin to change—that ambiguity really interests me. It opens space for interpretation, which aligns with the abstract nature of my work. The changing light adds emotional weight and mystery to a piece. However, often because of the deconstruction process I tend to use, even if images are at night, it registers as daylight in the painting.

Indeterminacy,  Oil on canvas, 76 x 108 inches, 2021

How small and how large are your paintings and why?

My paintings vary widely in scale. On the smaller end, I create works on paper around 24 x 22 inches—those are often more intimate, almost like visual notes or meditations. On the larger end, I’ve worked as large as 108 x 204 inches, and everything in between. The larger formats allow me to physically immerse myself in the work—to use my whole body in the painting process—and to layer more extensively.

They give the viewer space to step into the piece. I tend to choose the size based on the energy of the idea. Some concepts need room to breathe and expand, while others are quieter and more suited to a smaller, more concentrated format.

Ascension II, Oil on canvas, 84 x 156 inches, 2019

Do you paint places for commissions?

Yes, I do. I really enjoy commissions when there’s a meaningful connection between the client and the place they’re asking me to paint. I still bring my style and abstraction to it, but it becomes a collaborative process capturing, not just a location but the feeling or memory tied to it. When someone comes to me with a place that holds meaning for them, it becomes a kind of dialogue—we talk about what the place represents, the memories tied to it, the atmosphere they want to preserve. I don’t approach commissions as literal recreations. Instead, I try to capture the essence or emotional truth of the location, interpreted through my style. It’s always a balancing act—honoring someone else’s vision while staying true to my own visual language—but when it clicks, it becomes a powerful collaboration.

Shifting Planes, Oil on canvas, 48 x 36 inches, 2023

Contact:

Ben Schwab

Web www.benschwab.com | Instagram: @ben__schwab

Email: studio@benschwab.com

Deborah Blakeley, Melbourne, Australia

Interview by Deborah Blakeley, May 2025

Images on these pages are all rights reserved by Ben Schwab