Blair Aiken

 Selected Works.

Selected Works

This curated selection traces one continuous journey: the long, difficult process of unmasking — stripping away the protective layers we build around ourselves — and the quiet, stubborn hope that remains even after rupture.

From mythic crossings of life and death, through personal betrayal and intimate loss, to quiet domestic truths and the disciplined pursuit of beauty, these works ultimately lead to the honest act of painting and self-revelation.

Dark yet hopeful.

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This triptych explores the profound moment when life and death are no longer opposites but intertwined — the instant one ends so the other can begin.

The central panel is divided by two opposing forces: a feminine Defense and a male Offense. These figures reveal that the journey is shaped less by the event itself and more by how we choose to meet it. The blackening layers trace the slow, visceral process of transformation.

I have faced death many times, before and since 9/11 and the long-term health consequences that followed. Yet even in this darkest birth, a faint gleam persists — a quiet reminder that every ending carries the seed of beginning again.

Dark yet hopeful.

This self-portrait captures the difficult moment I began removing the masks I had worn for decades. Inspired by Japanese Oni masks I first encountered as a teenager in Japan, the painting shows the slow peeling away of constructed identities.

The blackening layers trace the accumulation of all those protective selves. I even had these masks tattooed on my shoulder as a permanent reminder never to forget where I came from. I do not pretend to be a good man, nor do I blame anyone but myself. This work is the record of finally standing exposed, vulnerable, and unafraid.

Yet even in this moment of raw honesty, a faint gleam persists — a quiet reminder that beneath every mask, something real and luminous can still endure.

Dark yet hopeful.

This reimagined Fall of Man explores the fractured moment of temptation, choice, and distraction in the modern human condition. Adam kneels in worship of the apple while Eve dances with her own distractions, both blind to the skull-masked serpent between them.

Poppies spread like an addictive force across the ground. The side panels show figures covering ear and tongue while crosses mark life’s inevitable crossroads.

Inscribed across Eve’s leg: “I have Choice. What does it mean to have Choice?”

A meditation on denial, rupture, and the quiet hope that persists even after the fall.

Dark yet hopeful.

In this large-scale diptych, the left panel shows my adult daughter Isa wrapped in thick red blankets that take the shape of my own failing heart from the long-term consequences of 9/11. She holds the skull — my symbol of the unmasked self — in a father’s enduring love and protection.

Inscribed across the image: “My heart stands before me, Relief to hope, A thousand years of lost love.”

The right panel represents romantic love born from years of layered pain and eventual release. This work took over nine years to complete, a testament to the slow unfolding of grief, love, and rebirth.

At its core, this piece explores all the love and loss a man can carry. Through this reversed sacred image, the painting becomes a deeply personal prayer for healing and redemption.

Dark yet hopeful.

This painting draws inspiration from John William Waterhouse’s *Hylas and the Nymphs*. It captures the seductive pull of beauty and the moment of surrender as Hylas is lured into the water by the nymphs, taken from the one who loves him most.

The blackening layers trace the slow drift from companionship into isolation — the moment desire becomes entrapment. Through this work I confront my own weakness for beauty and how it has sometimes led me away from loyalty and friendship.

Yet even in this moment of being pulled under, a faint gleam persists on the surface of the water — a quiet reminder that every loss still leaves behind the possibility of memory and resilience.

Dark yet hopeful.

This diptych reimagines Titian’s *The Death of Actaeon* and explores the devastating moment of betrayal and transformation. In my version, the two panels focus on the psychological state of Actaeon as he is torn apart by his own loyal hounds — the very moment his human form begins to dissolve into the stag.

The work draws from deeply personal experiences of violation and the painful realization that those closest to us can become the agents of our undoing. The blackening layers trace the slow, visceral accumulation of shock, recognition, and the fracturing of identity.

Through this painting I confront the terror of sudden unmasking — when the mask of safety is violently stripped away and we are left exposed, transformed, and unrecognizable even to ourselves.

Yet even in this darkest moment of rupture and betrayal, a faint gleam persists — a quiet reminder that survival, however brutal, still carries within it the seed of new understanding and resilience.

Dark yet hopeful.

This painting draws inspiration from Balthus’ *Nude with a Cat* (1949). Balthus’ work is known for its quiet, unsettling tension — a young girl seated naked in a chair with a cat, in a domestic setting that feels both intimate and strangely charged with hidden psychological depth.

In my version, the farm girl sits cross-legged in the grey chair, arms raised, with the dark farm looming behind her like a shadow of the life she carries. The skull hovering above reveals what lies beneath the surface — the masks of everyday rural existence and the complex inner world we often keep concealed.

Balthus’ paintings often hover on the edge of revelation. In the same way, this work continues my ongoing process of unmasking — stripping away the familiar façade of daily life to expose the raw, honest self beneath.

Yet even in this quiet, shadowed interior, a faint gleam persists — a quiet reminder that beneath the weight of the past and the masks we wear, something essential of the self can still emerge, unbroken and hopeful.

Dark yet hopeful.

This painting continues my exploration of the Japanese floating world and the modern samurai. A figure in contemporary armor stands amid a field of butterflies, weapons at the ready, yet engaged in the delicate act of pursuit.

The work merges traditional samurai discipline and honor with the fragile, fleeting beauty of the butterfly — a meditation on the tension between control and surrender, strength and gentleness. The blackening layers trace the slow accumulation of choices: the moments we choose to hunt beauty, the cost of that pursuit, and the quiet realization that what we capture may ultimately escape or transform us.

A meditation on discipline, desire, transience, and the evolving dialogue between tradition and technology.

Dark yet hopeful.

This self-portrait draws inspiration from Lovis Corinth’s *Self-Portrait with His Wife* (1903), whose work I first encountered while living in Germany. In Corinth’s painting, the artist stares directly at the viewer with intense focus while his wife poses nude facing away from the viewer.

In my version, I raise the brush and meet the viewer’s gaze with the same directness. My wife appears beside me on the canvas, and the skull — my recurring symbol of the unmasked self — hovers nearby. The painting captures the moment I chose to stop hiding behind masks and finally confront who I am as both artist and man.

Through paint I reveal and unmask myself. The blackening layers trace the slow accumulation of years spent performing and concealing. This work marks a pivotal point in my long journey of unmasking — the decision to paint honestly, without apology, and to show the raw truth behind the brush.

Yet even in this moment of exposure and vulnerability, a faint gleam persists in the eyes — a quiet reminder that stepping out from behind the mask is not the end, but the beginning of something more real and luminous.

Dark yet hopeful.