It may sound contradictory that the surfaces of Shawn Peters’ paintings contain enormous depth, but it’s true. Texture is an essential element in Peters’ surrealistic work. The Winston-Salem artist paints on wood, but before making his first deliberate brush stroke, he glues papers — newspapers, tissue, old mail — to the surface and then peels them away.

Once the papering and peeling process is finished, Peters applies wash after wash of gouache paint to this subtle topography.
 
“Sometimes I can put down 50 layers of color,” Peters says. “All that’s underneath becomes a part of the painting.”

Considering that Peters’ vision often comes from his dreams, it makes sense that what’s underneath is where everything begins. Out of the unconscious well of Peters’ dreams, stories take shape, people and animals merge into one, vapors rise, and an ominous, topsy-turvy beauty inhabits the paintings that blend dreamscape with landscape.

In Peters’ painting Hex, the prominent image is of a bearded man. His green eyes, surrounded by dark circles and frozen with a haunting, forlorn expression, stare out beyond the canvas. Look a little longer, though, and a vivid cacophony shatters any semblance of stillness. The man has a hoof. Crows are flying. And that red-roofed house appears miniaturized, precarious, and vulnerable.

“I began this painting during the swine flu panic,” Peters says, offering no further explanation.

Okay, but what about that man-pig who stands straddled between two worlds? Can he at least explain that fun little madness?

“Conceptually, he’s like an avatar of plague — bloated and pale and like a corpse.”

Peters easily combines painterly elements with illustrative touches. The avatar’s menacing teeth, for example, were drawn with pen.

“I’ve always been fascinated by pagan culture,” says Peters, who studied mixed media as an undergraduate. “I’m interested in lycanthropy, the way someone can shape-shift into a werewolf. And,” he pauses, “I’m uncomfortable with the way society is for humans, what we have to do just to exist.”

Recently, Peters pared down his style, which plays to his strength as a colorist. His painting Apostasy 1 represents how he’s shifting from the world of narrative, inhabited by personified animals, into a place where land and sky and architecture commingle: Textured waves of white, orange, and brown ripple in the foreground. In the middle, an igloo-like structure stands solitary and stiff, its opening a black flap of distressed wood. And swirling above the isolated building is a dynamic sky that seamlessly transitions from white to orange to blue. 

“I’m really interested in ancient structures that are abandoned,” Peters says. “I like the idea that structures are reclaimed by nature.”

And yet, beyond the physical intrigue of vines invading ruins and flowers popping out of marble, there’s a personal resonance that surely prompted Peters to name his piece Apostasy 1, a title referencing the abandonment of ideas, beliefs, and principles.

“As I get older,” Peters says, “things that I previously held to be really important get replaced.” There’s hesitancy in Peters’ voice, a reluctance to say more. Understandably, he seems concious that what he’s saying may best not be shared, and may not exactly explain things, anyway, words being words, and thoughts always changing.

“In a way, many of my paintings are death paintings. I don’t really think about [death], but in my subconscious, I do. It’s always there, whether we think about it or not. My work is dark; I know that, but I’m not a dark person.”

When did you realize you would live a creative life?
I’ve been drawing since I could hold anything. When I was in elementary school, I drew comics. I had wanted to go into special effects until I realized it was all computers.

What do you do to overcome creative block?
I just let myself go a little bit, and just play. I get into layering and peeling back the surface, and eventually, something will emerge. When I really try hard to render something, it’s always the least successful.

What do you think about failure?
I’m pretty familiar with it. I think it’s important to experience it constantly. If you’re not trying anything, you’re not doing anything new.

What quality do you admire in other artists?
I love when I can really see them in the work. I love when people make stuff that’s really them and doing what they want to do.

Which artists inspire you?
Obviously Goya, and Hieronymus Bosch and Redon. Sci-Fi artists like Frank Frazetta and the illustrator Stephen Gammell from the book series Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark.

What would surprise people about you?
I’m a pretty happy person. I love kittens. I’m not content. I’m restless, but ultimately I love hanging out with friends and have pretty simple tastes.