Jonathan Snowball (1952 – 2025)
Jonathan Snowball passed away earlier this year. His quiet brilliance, his sense of humour, and his uncompromising dedication to the truth of the painted image remain with us—in memory and in paint.
Snowball’s final body of work, Night Walk, explored the tones and textures of the night, using everyday scenes from around Perth. Jonathan was fascinated by artificial light and how it changed the world after dark.
We are privileged to offer, by private treaty, an outstanding work that exemplifies his signature style.
"In daylight, as a rule, I can introduce three variations of tone. In a nocturne, this can expand to ten." - Jonathan Snowball
26th September, 2025
4 minute read
Jonathan Snowball held his last solo exhibition at Such-and-Such Gallery in 1984. “It wasn’t very successful, and it didn’t fill me full of confidence for the future,” he said. “Raising a family required an income that was a bit more reliable than that of a painter—particularly a painter of pictures in Western Australia. Children need food and education. They also like warm clothes and a roof over their heads. I wasn’t confident that my painting could provide for all of that,” he explained.
With responsibility came reality, and his professional life as a full-time painter was put on hold. “Each picture creates its own problems that have to be solved, and while painting can be stimulating, it can also be stressful. To paint and have the additional stress of not providing for the family was far more than I was prepared to accept. My art would have suffered.”
Had he painted full-time, Jonathan might have ranked among Western Australia’s best—and if not for regional prejudice, an Australian great. He nodded as I told him that, in my experience, only Western Australians and Queenslanders are true national collectors; others rarely look beyond their borders.
Though he completed his studies in the 1970s, Jonathan didn’t rely on painting to make a living for many years. Instead, he started a metal fabrication business, which supported his family until it was eventually sold.
In the years that followed, he moved between projects. One undertaking was gilding the domes of Buddhist temples across Australia. Under the guidance of a Swiss master gilder, Jonathan and a small team travelled the country; the work took nearly six months. “German gold leaf is the best,” he said. “There’s a body and glow to it that isn’t produced anywhere else.”
Another project was extending the studio of George Haynes. That, too, took several months. I once told him Haynes had been a little miffed when Jonathan chose a business career—George had considered him one of his most gifted students. “I never knew that,” Jonathan responded. “But children must eat.”
“I know what it’s like to be a starving artist, though,” he told me once. “I can become so engrossed in a picture that I forget to eat. Then I wonder why I’m feeling lethargic. Suddenly I remember—I haven’t had anything to eat today. Better remember to shop for food.” He laughed as he said it, admitting he disliked food shopping and avoided it for as long as possible.
Jonathan lived alone, apart from holiday visits from his family scattered across the country. He accommodated them with ease, and only then did the pantry get much attention. Paint and canvas, however—that cupboard was never bare.
His final body of work, Night Walk, explored the tones and textures of the night, using everyday scenes from around Perth—and some from Melbourne, where his daughter Aggie lived and studied. She visited him often and was pursuing a career path similar to her father’s. Jonathan was fascinated by artificial light and how it changed the world after dark. “In daylight, as a rule, I can introduce three variations of tone,” he said. “In a nocturne, this can expand to ten.”
“Did you know that on the suburban railway stations of Perth, one light over the track is warm, and the next is cool? I wonder why.” He wasn’t really interested in the answer—only in how to paint it. “Look at that bench—the light is warm at one end and cool at the other. I have to solve the problem of having two light sources combine in a painterly manner, so I don’t draw too much attention to the variation.”
He pointed to another mark on the canvas. “See that shadow on the ground? It’s coming from a handrail that’s out of picture and being cast by a light source you also can’t see. It’s important to maintain the balance of the composition—but I have to get the tone right. It’s a bit too dark at the moment.”
Jonathan Snowball passed away earlier this year. His quiet brilliance, his sense of humour, and his uncompromising dedication to the truth of the painted image remain with us—in memory and in paint. He will be missed.