In the Quiet of Form: The Expansive World of Raf Simpson
- Feb 22
- 4 min read
Raf Simpson’s work doesn’t shout – it resonates. The New York–based abstract painter is known for his grand, minimalist canvases that unfold through layers of acrylic, oil, charcoal, pencil, and wax, inviting viewers into a quiet yet expansive meditation on form, imperfection, and existence itself. Born and raised in Barbados and shaped by a deeply artistic lineage, Simpson’s journey has carried him from a sensory, imagination-rich childhood to the galleries and creative studios of New York City. With a major New York show opening March 11th, Miami Living Magazine sits down with Raf to explore his process, influences, and the questions that continue to guide his evolving body of work.
Miami Living (ML): Thank you so much for being here with us Raf. Before we dive into your work, can you take us into your studio for a moment? What does a typical day look and feel like for you when you’re painting, from the first quiet moments to stepping back from the canvas?
Raf: Most days start quietly. No music at first. I like to get there before the day starts pulling at me; before emails, calls, and decisions show up. I’ll usually start putting paint on the canvas playing with shapes and colors until one shape or color sets the pace for the piece. Letting materials do what they want to do instead of forcing an outcome. Toward the end of the day, I step back and try not to overthink it. If the work feels settled, I leave it alone. Learning when to stop has probably been the hardest part. I usually paint 90% during the day but finish 100% of my work late at night.
ML: Growing up in Barbados with no working television, surrounded instead by bikes, surfing, and an art-filled family environment, how do you think that your slower, more sensory childhood shows up in the scale of your work today?
Raf: That pace shaped everything. Without constant noise, you learn to sit with things like light, texture, repetition. Barbados gave me space to look closely and let my imagination run. The scale comes from that. Big canvases slow you down. You don’t just glance at them. You have to stand there. It’s similar to the ocean or the horizon; not loud, but expansive and overwhelming, but layered in peace.
A Maroon Spot
ML: Your paintings are minimalist in form but expansive in feeling, often circling the question “why are we here?” Do you feel like you’re searching for answers on the canvas, or creating space for viewers to ask their own questions?
Raf: I’m not trying to answer anything. I’m more interested in making space for questions. Minimalism, for me, isn’t about taking things away just to take them away. It’s about removing noise so something real can come through. I want people to bring themselves into the work. If someone stands in front of a painting and feels something they think they can explain, that’s enough for me.
ML: Imperfection plays a central role in your work. In a world that often prizes polish and precision, what has imperfection taught you, both as an artist and as a person?
Raf: Most of the moments I care about in my work come from things not going as planned. A line that’s off. A surface that breaks. Those feel human. Outside the studio, I spend a lot of time building businesses and systems where control and precision matter. Painting is where I let go of that. It’s a reminder that things don’t need to be perfect to be complete.
Continuation
ML: Architecture and mid-century modern design clearly influence your work, as does your creative partnership with your wife, designer Lauren Bakarian of Bakarian Studio. How do conversations or moments at home find their way into your paintings, even subconsciously?
Raf: Lauren is my entire gauge. She’s a creative genius, and I trust her eye more than anyone’s. I know that if she responds to a piece, it’s actually finished. If she doesn’t, it’s not. We talk constantly about proportion, restraint, and how things feel. No trends, no noise. That way of thinking shows up naturally in my work. Architecture and mid-century design both understand when to stop, and Lauren has an incredible instinct for that moment. Creativity at home isn’t separated from life. Ideas come up over dinner, on walks, in passing. Even when she’s not directly commenting on a painting, her perspective shapes how I edit, what I remove, and what I leave untouched.
ML: You’ve spoken about loving the process itself: the layering, the emergence, the convergence of elements. Is there a moment in the studio when a painting suddenly tells you who it wants to be? And how do you recognize when it’s complete?
Raf: There’s always a point where the resistance drops. The painting stops fighting back and starts feeling settled. That’s when I know I’m close. Completion, for me, is about restraint. When adding anything else would feel unnecessary, I stop. That idea carries into other parts of my life too. I like knowing when to step back even though it's hard for me to follow through and step back.
ML: As you continue evolving as an artist and human, what question are you most curious to dive into next?
Raf: Lately, I’m thinking a lot about balance. I spend time building companies, working with teams, creating momentum. Painting is my personal counterweight. It slows me down and keeps me honest. The question I keep coming back to is how those worlds can inform each other without losing their integrity. How do you stay present while still building something meaningful in the world? I don’t have the answer, but the work keeps moving me closer.
