Jeff Beck and the Art of Painting — On Mastery, Risk and the Limits of the Medium
- peter corr
- Jan 31, 2023
- 4 min read
Updated: May 25
I was deeply saddened to learn of the passing of Jeff Beck, who has been my guitar hero for longer than I can recall. In my view, he was the most outstanding guitarist of his generation — a figure I place alongside Jimi Hendrix, though their styles are quite distinct. I first saw him perform at Lancaster University in 1973 and immediately recognised his extraordinary and singular talent. More recently, I had the opportunity to see him in York, on tour with Johnny Depp and Sharon Corr. He did not disappoint. The sounds he drew from a Fender Stratocaster were simply mesmerising — his musicianship and phrasing always inventive, always reaching beyond the expected.
As a guitarist myself, I have long tried to understand how he achieved such beautiful phrasing and those extraordinary sequences of notes and chords. I can grasp the mechanics to some extent — the neck positions, the pitch bending, the volume control — yet I have never been able to integrate all these elements with the seamless fluency he possessed. That integration represents another level of craftsmanship entirely.
The Parallel Between Music and Painting
You may wonder what a rock guitarist could possibly have to teach us about painting. Klee and Kandinsky both spoke of the parallels between music and the visual arts — finding equivalents between major and minor chords and the deployment of warm and cool colour, between harmonic and discordant relationships in line and shape. These observations remain entirely legitimate, and painters draw on this understanding, sometimes deliberately, sometimes intuitively.
In the days following Beck's death, I found myself arriving at new insights into the process of painting — insights I owe directly to him. If you have never seen a live performance, I would encourage you to seek out his Ronnie Scott's Club concert, recorded over a decade ago and available in full on YouTube. Beyond the music itself, the recording is remarkable for its close-up footage of Beck's hands at work.
Mastery of the Medium
That footage is a testament to the sheer manual dexterity required to achieve such virtuosity. It reveals an almost symbiotic relationship between the human hand and the neck of a guitar — the ability to trigger harmonics with precision, guided by an innate sense of timing and touch. It is, at its core, about knowing exactly what the materials will allow.
In the case of an electric guitar, this means understanding the resistance of a rosewood or maple fingerboard, the tension of steel strings, knowing how far they can be stretched and detuned, all while making continuous adjustments to volume with fingers resting on the vibrato arm. It is the interaction of these multiple controls that allows for sounds so original and expressive.
Beck went further still — he pushed his command of the medium to its limits and beyond. His genius lay in a willingness, even a desire, to take risks, to stretch the envelope. One thinks of the countless hours he must have spent recreating the high-pitched song of a blackbird — using, notably, a dinner fork rather than a conventional plectrum or his fingers. He was always experimenting, always introducing new elements and ideas.
What This Means for Painting
I recognise something of this in my own practice. The medium is entirely different, but the creative ambition is connected. To paint with real conviction, one must develop fluency with paint — a confidence in its handling, a sense of control that only follows from a certain level of mastery. When you work at speed, the paint retains and embodies the energy of the moment of application. Physical movement becomes integral to the act of making: vigorous gestures of the hand, arm, and upper body are recorded directly in the material.
It is not possible to create a sense of dynamism and energy without engaging in dynamic and energetic movement. The dynamic range of music — the movement between soft, lyrical passages and moments of raw power — finds its equivalent in paint through colour intensity, tonal variation, impasto, texture, and scale.
Beck moved effortlessly between the poetic and the forceful. He always endeavoured to move beyond the obvious and the clichéd, and he invariably succeeded. In an interview following the Ronnie Scott's performance, he spoke generously of the musicians around him and the many artists who had influenced him. He also used a word one would not normally associate with creativity — he described certain passages of his playing as barbaric. It was a moment of genuine self-reflection: a reference to his expressive range, and to the extent to which his powerful voice depended on a commitment to being bold, fearless, and willing to use whatever technical and creative means were available to achieve his musical goals.
If I could achieve even a fraction of his invention and creativity in the medium of paint, I would consider myself to have done something worthwhile.
He will be greatly missed.
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