I was drawing everything. That was the problem.
When I first took art seriously, I chased the trends — YouTube, Instagram, whatever was quick. Celebrity portraits. Anime. Supercars. Every medium I could get my hands on. It showed talent, but I had no signature style, no clear identity, nothing to be remembered for. I was lost.
Before any of this, I'd built a business from nothing — 200+ cleanings a month, my own systems, my own operation. But the work was brutal, and I started developing arthritis in my fingers. One day it hit me: if my hands are the one thing I've always had, and this business is wearing them down, what happens to the one thing that's actually mine? Around the same time, my mother asked me directly — "what are you doing with your art? You haven't been drawing in years." That question sat with me. Then I lost a major contract, and I read it as a sign. I came back to art without knowing yet what it would become. These eighteen pieces are that return.
So I studied what those years taught me — what performed, what people connected with, and what actually made me happy to draw. That's when I chose Relational Realism™: realism, because shading and detail have always been my strongest instinct — and relational, because every piece is built around a real place, a real memory, a real person's story, not just a technically accurate view. One style. One thing to be known for.
That decision came with a rule: I stopped making everything else publicly. I still turn down portrait commissions — good money — because they dilute the art form I chose. The Vault is the work from before that line was drawn — the years I came back to art before I knew what it would become. It's sealed, it's rare, and it's not coming back.
— Andrew, Schoolbwoy Art
