In anticipation of our upcoming trunkshow, we spent the day with Zach Zono, the South African, London-based painter, dressed in a selection of this season's pieces. Step into his studio in East London and the first thing that hits you is the work itself: intense, large-scale abstractions that have completely taken over the space, floor to ceiling. Zono paints from memory, pulling the light, colour and forms of his South African childhood into canvases that feel both personal and enormous. We caught up with him about his daily routine, the clothes he relies on to work, and the best time of day to paint.
First thing at the studio, is there a routine?
There's definitely a routine, it's more like a warm-up. I put music on straight away. Then I'll walk the space before I touch anything, look at what I left the day before, then out the door to grab a coffee down the road, and when I get back into the space I see everything differently — that's when it's painting time.
Best time of day, and has the studio's light changed how you paint?
Morning, definitely. There's a low winter light that comes through the windows some days, that's the best kind, everything looks better in it, even the mess. The space has huge windows and it changes completely depending on the hour, so I've learned to work with that rather than fight it. I'll sometimes leave a painting until the light hits it right just to see it properly, using the shadows it creates to become part of the painting.
What are you wearing today, and how has that changed over time?
When I started painting I was very strict about having painting clothes and normal clothes, but over time they mixed together. I always try to dress up for the studio, feeling good helps me with the work. But I'm a fan of a uniform — Levi's, white t-shirt, and a blazer do the job every day.
An item you reach for on days you're struggling to start?
There's an old French blue painter's jacket I've had for years, at this point it's more paint than jacket. There's something about it that gets me out of my head. It's already been through it, so it gives me permission to just start without worrying what happens to it.
A day you paint best, or no pattern?
No real pattern, it moves around. If anything, the days right after I've been away from the studio for a bit are strong, there's a backlog of ideas waiting. But I've had brilliant Tuesdays and dead Fridays for no reason I could point to. I've stopped trying to predict it.
A piece of clothing that's become permanently "paint," starting out as something else?
I have these old loafers, my first pair, ever. Over time they became studio slippers, They fit my feet like gloves and really act as dancing shoes for me when I move around the studio.
