Creetcha, born Christian Contemori, is an Italian figurative artist, portraitist and colourist based in London. Working across watercolour, gouache, acrylic and oil, his practice is grounded in the study of human anatomy and the expressive possibilities of the body. His figures are not simply observed, but psychologically charged, using posture, light and colour to open questions around identity, memory and the self.
Moving between introspective portraiture and works that examine collective and social identity, Creetcha creates images that resist fixed interpretation. Colour becomes both structure and atmosphere, heightening the physical presence of the figure while allowing emotional ambiguity to remain. His work is concerned with the tension between what is visible and what is withheld, inviting the viewer into a space of reflection rather than resolution.
In his recent series Idle, Creetcha explores identity through fragmentation and reassembly, considering memory as both a connective force and a fragile structure. The body appears as something held together, interrupted and remade, reflecting the instability of belonging to oneself.
Are you self-taught, or did you undertake formal artistic training?
I am predominantly self-taught, but I have joined courses and masterclasses over the years. Most of my learning, however has happened through practice, through trial and error, and a wide array of mediums.
How would you define your visual language or conceptual approach?
Viewers might define my art as figurative colourism. My visual language is about colour relationships, angular shapes and the flow of the human body. My approach tries to marry impulse with reflection.
Can you describe your creative process from conception to completion?
The canvas is the place where everything has a right to exist. I try to enter it with an open mind. Emptiness can be scary, so I often begin with abstract mark-making. Unpredictability is the mystery that ignites a dialogue inside, outside and through myself. It connects to something in my unconscious, and an image is born if I allow myself to converse with the painting as it comes to the surface.
From there, I build and rework. I develop one area, might return to abstraction, then let the painting shift again. I don’t want to force detail too much as detail belongs to the viewer. I’ve moved away from trying to depict reality too closely. I’d rather let the image find its own clarity.
Does narrative, symbolism, or storytelling play a role within your work?
Absolutely, but not as a fixed story that I can fully grasp beforehand. The narrative of a piece is contained within the painting itself. It comes forth through the dialogue I’ve had with it.
Each work is a snapshot of where I was and what was moving me at that time. It is built between the unknown of the art form and the unknown of my own psyche.
I also like hearing what people see in the work. I don’t want to be too descriptive or too revealing about what I originally meant. The story adapts for the people who encounter it.
Which artists have most influenced you historically or contemporarily and why?
I’ve been influenced by expressionists and by artists who understood colour deeply. Egon Schiele, Sorolla, John Singer Sargent, Euan Uglow, Rembrandt, Gauguin are but a few of them.
I’m also deeply influenced by Fauvism and its use of colour as I keep returning to colour relationships, to how colours sit together and what they can carry emotionally. More recently, I’ve looked at and learned from contemporary and highly technical artists such as Zoey Frank, Nick Runge, Benjamin Björklund and Phil Hale.
What personal, cultural, or environmental influences shape your practice?
I have spent a great deal of my life creating music, living music and being surrounded by incredibly talented and gifted artists of all kinds which inspired me to pursue my own creative identity.
But I also learned that the ordinary is my biggest inspiration, all that belongs to life, mine and that of others, details, people and places. All hinges on observation, on being able to truly see, which feeds my desire to absorb my surroundings into myself.
Where is your studio based, and how does the space inform your creativity?
My studio is my home but I don’t think creativity only happens there. It can happen in conversation, through the ideas that stay with me after speaking to people, or through seeing unexpected “compositions” in everyday life.
Do you have any rituals or rhythms that anchor your studio practice?
One of the most important rituals is preparing my palette. Because colour matters so much to me, I need to spend the necessary time to feel satisfied with it before I can begin.
My ritual is about making sure I can access tone and nuance whenever I need it.
What bodies of work or projects are you currently developing?
My latest series is called “Idle”. It is about memories, thoughts and imagined versions of ourselves. We think we know who we are, but we are made of so many things: molecules, thoughts, memories, sensations, and of course, our bodies.
This has led me to think about identity and embodiment as we often think of ourselves as a single unit, but so much of ourselves is fragile and transient. Try to think of who you’d be if you lost your memory, would you retain your current view of yourself?
That fragmentation appears in my paintings through geometry and broken images. From close up, the image may feel scattered, from further away, it starts to make sense.
Where can collectors encounter or acquire your work?
Collectors and buyers can mostly find my work online, through my website, or by contacting me directly by email or Instagram. Come to any upcoming art fair or exhibition and let’s chat. I like speaking with people who want to buy the work rather than making it feel like a simple transaction.
