Who am I?

Hello — I’m Joe Giles. Welcome to my world of art. I’m really glad you’re here.

Creativity has always pulled at me, even when I wasn’t allowed to touch it. Paintings in particular — colour, movement, emotion — fascinated me long before I ever picked up a brush.

I was born and raised in a high-control religious group where freedom of expression simply didn’t exist. Life was governed by rules, surveillance, and uniformity. Even the way I dressed was dictated: white or blue shirts, dark trousers, black shoes — no colour, no individuality. Music, television, theatre, holidays, art — all forbidden. It was an extremely colourless world.

At 28, I was excommunicated and suddenly thrown into the wider world. In those early years, I spent hours wandering through art galleries, standing in front of abstract and contemporary works in genuine awe. It felt like entire parts of my mind were waking up. Still, I never imagined I could create anything like what I was seeing. That felt like something other people did.

Then, in 2024, almost by accident, I bought a cheap set of acrylic paints from TK Maxx and started playing. No plan. No expectations. Somewhere along the way, I created something that surprised me — something that felt alive. Painting quietly became a weekend habit.

Everything changed in mid-2025.

After what I can only describe as a total identity collapse — losing someone I loved deeply, losing my job, my financial security, and the home I thought I’d built my future in — I bought a large canvas from The Works and began painting instinctively, almost violently. Over weeks, I poured grief, anger, shame, guilt, and pressure onto the canvas.

That piece became Emotion 1.

The therapeutic impact of that process was profound. For the first time, I wasn’t analysing or controlling how I felt — I was transferring it. When the painting was finished, I felt something I hadn’t expected: pride. And in that moment, my love for painting was born.

Today, I paint emotionally rather than intellectually. Each piece is a snapshot of how I feel in that moment — layered, imperfect, sometimes chaotic. Colour plays a central role in my work, very deliberately. After growing up in a grey, restrictive world, colour feels like freedom. Brightness feels like rebellion. Expression feels like survival.

My hope is that my work does something to you. I don’t need it to be liked. I want it to resonate — to provoke, disturb, comfort, or confront. If you love it, great. If you hate it, that’s great too. The only reaction that feels like failure to me is indifference.

If my art makes you feel anything, then it’s done its job.