Paint flies across Wilson’s canvases like a collision—fragments of bodies, landscapes, and beasts locked in struggle. At times it is man against man, other times man against beast, or the lone figure set against the force of the crowd. These tensions form the heartbeat of his work, where violence, survival, and transformation intersect.

His work is driven by restless mark-making and saturated color, conjuring visions of apocalypse, hunting scenes, and primal conflicts. Figures rarely appear whole but surface as fragments—animal, human, or hybrid—emerging from the turbulence of paint. Francis Bacon’s ability to hold the beauty of violence within each stroke is a central influence on Wilson’s practice. Bacon’s paintings do not simply depict brutality; they transfigure it into something at once horrifying and luminous. Wilson draws on this tension, allowing violence to become a generative force that fractures form, ruptures color, and shapes entire worlds within the canvas.

Within these worlds, tensions rise between the individual and the group. Portraits of landscapes, bodies, and bodies interacting within landscapes become recurring structures through which Wilson stages conflict. The works suggest both the isolation of the singular figure and the chaos of collective struggle, often suspended in the same visual field.

Surreal hues collide with earthen tones, producing landscapes that feel ancestral and futuristic at once. They echo the inevitability of displacement, catastrophe, and conflict, while also suggesting that out of destruction comes new creation. Abstraction, for Wilson, becomes a language of survival—a way to witness violence, embody it, and transform it into visions that foretell both ruin and renewal.