Top image: Antony Micallef, SELF 2015. Courtesy the artist and Lazarides London

John Virtue is a well-known landscape painter – trained by Frank Auerbach – admired for his monochromatic interpretations of surrounding urban environments and society.

As Virtue was to Auerbach, Antony Micallef is to Virtue: his artistic progeny. Talented in his own right, however, with the only link being the ominousness that devours Micallef’s subjects and places positive notions into sinister obscurity.

To some, his work may seem like tormented representations of hedonism, and within that, consumerism. In fact, his portfolio acts more as an emotional portrayal and reflection of these notions, told through cascading, deep waves of oil paint and slashes of charcoal to convey an iconographical message of excess.

Micallef’s new exhibition SELF – positioned at the Lazarides Gallery in London – is a satirical exploration of the ubiquitous, modern-day selfie. This artistic commentary of self-scrutinisation is a reflection of contemporary narcissism, and rendered uniquely with violent strokes of paint and abstracted forms.

Lewis Firth: Can you explain a bit about the notions and works that you have culminated to create SELF?
Antony Micallef: This body of work was all about discovery for me. It was like discovering something completely new inside me that has always been there but I just didn’t know it. I always wanted to make these paintings but I never knew how. They are incredibly tangible, sculptural impressions of fleeting glimpses of how I feel. I felt like I was shedding old skin making this show and in a way it felt like I had become something else as a painter. The journey of creating is always a constant one if things are working and with this work it felt like I had discovered something new. I’ve expressed more with making these paintings yet feel that I’ve simplified a huge amount.

LF: Your work binds contemporary and classical culture and ideologies to create thought-provoking compositions. Was there anything in particular that encouraged these nuances of satire and wit?
AM: I think it’s just a reflection of how one sees the world. It’s sad, but the world is a pretty messed up place overall – at least the way it’s portrayed in our media. I just feel we’ve become a parody of ourselves as human beings and this is all one big episode of The Simpsons, but with real consequences. We’ve become the ridiculous, and the joke is on us, yet a big proportion of the world hasn’t even realised it yet. I think you have to have a sense of humour when dealing and comprehending all of this. It’s the brain ‘coming up for air’, otherwise it would all get a little too bleak. I don’t believe anything I see or hear in the news anymore as everybody has their own agenda. I crave for clarity sometimes, and I guess in some naive way, making art about these subjects is one way of filtering out the noise in my head.

LF: There’s an inherent darkness to your technique – represented through your expressive brush strokes, choices of colour and strikes of charcoal. Is this at all reflective of your own perspective on contemporary society or does it have a more sinister or lighter source?
AM: I just think it’s all about aesthetics and trying to polarise what one is trying to say. Your brush mark, palette and colour choices are an extension of your expression and voice. As a visual artist, you set yourself parameters and you have to communicate within that. It’s all about choices and trying to make the right ones to convey the right feeling or message.

LF: In some of your works, you create a complementary dichotomy between connotations of cheerfulness (like a rainbow or florals) and wickedness (like the engulfing darkness). A sort of tormented positivity. Is it a representation of morality? Or something more specific?
AM: like the contrast and the alchemy it makes when you put two opposing images like that together. It creates a friction, which is the part I’m interested in. I was born into the Catholic church system and from a very early age guilt is ingrained and instilled into your belief system. To ask if it’s a reflection of my morality: I would have to say yes.

LF: Growing up, what were your earliest sources of inspiration that encouraged you to step into the world of art?
AM: I think walking into my dad’s office when I was about seven years old and seeing every single picture I had ever made stuck up on his wall behind his desk. I hadn’t realised, but my father had saved all my artwork since I was born. I would have to say that was my first ever solo show and the feeling was fantastic. It made me feel very special. It was mostly drawings of African Fish Eagles and sharks so I feel my vernacular and subject matter has expanded since then.

LF: What did you learn from John Virtue? There are clearly some similarities in both of your styles, but was there anything he taught you that particularly resonated?
AM: He taught me that painting was something you had to nurture. He was a bit like a boxer’s manager in that respect and made you approach things in a very fundamental way. He never dressed painting up or made the life of an artist sound glamorous. He was strict and could be very brutal. He would rip photographs off my wall and shout at me to “paint from life”. I hated him sometimes, but later on I realised he was teaching me how to capture life with a brush and colour Earth on a canvas. After every conversation with him I remember I would feel so hungry to paint and the feeling was electric.

SELF by Antony Micallef runs until 19th March at Lazarides, 11 Rathbone Place, London W1T 1HR