Adam Smith, or by his pseudonym Bone-Waller, is a self-taught painter whose life and work are a testament to the transformative power of creativity. Based in Barnet, Adam’s journey to becoming an artist has been anything but conventional, spanning decades as an actor, clown, poet, and even a painter and decorator.
Now, in his early 50s, Bone-Waller has found his voice in vibrant, narrative-driven oil paintings that capture fleeting moments of human connection, humor, and drama. Through his project 'People is People', he explores the complexities of the human condition, often blending tragedy and comedy with a touch of surrealism.
In this interview, Adam opens up about his unconventional path, the moments that shaped his artistic journey, and the rich stories behind his striking works.
Can you tell us a little about yourself? What kind of life have you lived or are you living?
I live in Barnet, and I'm 52. Half the time, it's me and the cats—Roddy and Fu. The other half of the time, I'm joined by my teenage daughters, Tallulah and Daisy. When they're with me, Roxy the dog joins us at weekends and during holidays.
Previously: I came to London when I was 23 with dreams of being an actor. I attended LAMDA drama school, and for 10 years afterward, I was a jobbing actor with loads of different jobs in between. Then, in my early 30s, I found my first steady job—something I fell into by accident—and for the next 12 years, I worked (predominantly) as a clown. Along the way, I dabbled in poetry, comedy, photography, writing, and singing. To make ends meet, I've also been a painter and decorator for many years.
What was the turning point that made you commit to being an artist?
By the end of 2015, my clowning job came to an end. In early 2017, I had a stroke. I was 44. Luckily, I made a good recovery. Simultaneously, my marriage was in decline, and by late 2018, it ended. Things were changing fast.
I had often thought about trying art. I enjoyed exhibitions and watching art shows on TV. In 2019, I decided to give it a go and bought some oil paints and canvas. I've continued to paint for the last six years. It has been a hobby, a distraction, and a form of therapy. It's a multi-faceted beast.
How did your experiences as an actor and clown shape your approach to painting, particularly with characters and storytelling?
I’ve always been fascinated by stories and the human condition—interactions, emotions, nuances, different characters, and situations. The portrayal of tragedy and comedy interests me. Mixing these genres is even better.
Art and drama are two mediums similar in nature. As an actor and clown, I was a performer. As a painter, I feel more like a writer and director. All of it is linked.
Your work often captures a "moment in a narrative." How do you choose these moments, and what role does ambiguity play in your storytelling?
Sometimes my starting point might be a title or phrase that captures my attention, and I go from there. For example, recently I did a painting called I Know I Said I Wanted to Spend the Rest of My Life with You but I've Changed My Mind. I thought the phrase was blunt and funny. From there, I doodled and played until I got something I was happy with, then built it out on canvas.
Alternatively, I take a lot of photos on my phone—street photography, reportage, etc.—which I might use as reference for a painting. In these cases, I start with an image and think about what title might fit once I have painted it.
Ambiguity comes in the form of provoking the audience to think about the people in the painting. What situation are they in? What came before and what will come after that moment of frozen tableau? It’s like a "choose your own adventure" book from the 1980s. There is no definitive answer—just a load of possibilities. The audience might have fun coming up with their own ideas about what they see.
How has living in London for 25 years impacted your creative vision and storytelling?
I think human lives are a bit like a canvas, in that they are blank to start with and accumulate metaphorical paint as time passes. What form that paint takes depends on the lives people live. For me, being in the London area has meant there have been more people, underground trains, and buildings than if I had lived in a village. It’s still possible to be a recluse in a city, but there is a sense of busyness—a lot of possibilities (often unrealized) and a lot going on. Has this translated at all into my work? In an osmotic way, perhaps.
Why do you prefer oil on canvas as your medium? Have you experimented with other materials or techniques?
In my teens, I used to copy comic art from 2000AD. I used line pens and colored them in with pencil crayons or felt tips. Sometimes I’d make a pencil drawing. Occasionally, I would borrow my parents’ watercolors, but I wasn’t any good at that. Then I stopped making art until I was 47.
The second time around, I was completely drawn by the allure of oil paint. There is something mysterious and exotic about it. And I like the smell. Using oils was difficult and frustrating to begin with, but I enrolled on a course at Turps Banana, and my mentor gave me loads of oil painting tips. I’m still learning, and so far, oil paint occupies me enough not to venture elsewhere.
Do the characters in your paintings draw from real people or events, or are they entirely imagined?
Both.
As a mainly self-taught painter, what challenges have you faced, and how have you overcome them?
The biggest challenge is that art is mostly a solitary activity. When you’re starting out, it’s easy to get confused about how to do it, and there isn’t anyone to ask.
I didn’t go to art school, but after a year and a half of painting, I enrolled in a correspondence course with Turps Banana. I did this for two years and had a couple of mentors. The course led me to a community of artists both online and in person. Mixing with other artists is a great way to accumulate technical and historical knowledge around the subject. To this day, I meet up with a small group of North London artists about six times a year to discuss all things art-connected. Being part of a community helps.
Let me know if you'd like me to finish revising the rest!
What advice would you give to someone who wants to transition into art later in life?
Get involved with other artists, either on a course, through life drawing, or with art collectives. And go to exhibitions to see what tickles you—what influences you might acquire.
What do you hope viewers take away from People is People and your art in general?
People is People is an ongoing project name for my paintings, which feature people as the subject. Life is often easier if you can see the funny side of it. I hope some of my paintings make people titter inwardly, at least.
I’m also trying to convey a sense of drama in little corners that might not always be noticed—with impressionism, surrealism, and vivid color. In my early 20s, I wrote a lot of poetry. Now, these are my poems.
What first drew you to painting as a medium?
Through my life, I’ve tried acting, comedy, improv, singing, songwriting, novel writing, and poetry. In the grand tradition of "Jack of all trades, master of none," it was painting’s turn.
How do you handle periods of creative block or doubt?
With regards to artist’s block, I find as I get older, the blocks are less frequent. This may be due to having more experience to draw from. I have a back catalog of thousands of photographs from which to find pockets of inspiration.
That’s not to say a block never occurs. If it does, I just get on with other things like hanging out with my children and partner, doing admin, the washing up, or whatever else needs doing, until the easel pulls me back. Doubt is always there, and I just try to ignore it as best I can. Paying too much attention to it leads down roads I’d prefer not to go.
What role does music, silence, or environment play while you paint?
When I paint, I’m normally listening to something. My preferred music these days (now that I’m an old fart) is jazz or classical music. Classical music is more for the winter, and jazz for the rest of the year.
I also listen to a lot of audiobooks. As I’ve gotten older and my eyesight has worsened for reading, listening to a good story while applying paint is a fine way to spend some time.
Do you work on one painting at a time, or do you prefer to juggle multiple projects?
A bit of both. There are times when I find the oil paint on a canvas needs to rest a bit to partially dry before carrying on. If I’m feeling prolific during such times, I might start another painting.
I think the maximum I’ve had at once has been four. The problem is, if I spread myself too thin, I can lose focus. I have been known to let some paintings fall by the wayside when doing too many at once.
If you could collaborate with any artist, living or dead, who would it be and why?
I wonder if that’s a bit like saying, "Who are my favorite artists?" I think I would be quite intimidated to collaborate with household names. I admire so many and have been influenced from all directions.
Those who come to mind today are Hockney, Hopper, Freud, Balthus, Otto Dix, Max Ernst, Grayson Perry, and Terry Gilliam.
Do you see yourself exploring other themes or mediums in the future?
Never say never, but so far, this subject matter hasn’t exhausted me. With regards to mediums, right now I’m happy with oil painting.
What do you hope to achieve with your painting in the future?
I’d like to be involved in more shows—both collective and solo exhibitions. The ideal would be to sell enough art to be able to paint canvases full-time rather than walls.
Can you describe your art in one sentence?
People is People.
Thank to Adam, for sharing his remarkable journey and unique artistic vision with us. His candid reflections on life, creativity, and the human condition are both inspiring and thought-provoking. It’s been a privilege to hear about the passion and resilience that fuel his work, and we can’t wait to see where his artistic path takes his next.