An Article by S.H. (1044 words, 6 min read)
A Different Kind of Encounter
There is something strangely intimate about meeting a fish eye to eye. Graham Stevenson understands this intimacy. In Second Nature, his first solo exhibition devoted to fish-themed watercolor, which opened on August 29 at Mission Art Gallery in Mar Mikhael, Beirut, the fish gradually acquire personalities. They become individuals, each with its own weight, color, history and temperament. Hosted by Ghiath Machnok and Toufic El Zein, the exhibition brings together works spanning several years, including a recent series inspired by fish caught in Lebanese waters. The title Second Nature feels particularly apt. Stevenson has spent so many years observing fish, catching them, studying them and painting them that this underwater world seems to have entered his own vocabulary of life.
Forty Years Looking at Fish
Born in the United Kingdom and based in Beirut for more than thirty years, Stevenson originally imagined a life connected to marine biology. His professional path led him towards landscape architecture, while drawing and painting remained part of his creative life. During his years in Dubai, fishing brought these different passions together. He began painting the fish he caught, beginning an artistic practice that has accompanied him for around four decades.
This long relationship becomes evident when looking at the watercolors. Stevenson understands the anatomy of his subjects, yet anatomy becomes only the beginning. He observes the curve of a body, the transparency of a fin, the changing surface of scales, the peculiar expression of an eye. Knowledge gradually turns into affection. A fisherman measures species, size and weight. A painter continues looking.
The Fish Has a Face
Perhaps the most compelling aspect of Second Nature lies in this transformation from specimen to portrait. Toufic El Zein recalls visiting Stevenson’s studio and realizing that he was looking at portraits. Standing before the works, that observation becomes immediately understandable.
The monumental examples intensify this feeling. A King Mackerel measuring 120 centimetres, an Amberjack of the same length, a Bluefin Tuna measuring 150 centimetres and an extraordinary 190-centimetre Sailfish occupy the paper almost like bodies sharing the gallery with us. Their scale changes our relationship with them. Details usually lost in movement or beneath the surface become visible. Every marking becomes distinctive. Every eye seems to contain a character.
Their stories accompany them. Stevenson records where they were caught, when, their measurements and often the name of the person who caught them. A Bluefin Tuna caught by Charbel Zoughaib ten miles off Amchit in July 2025 becomes connected to a specific day in Lebanese waters. A Dentex caught by Elio Nadros off Anfeh enters another story. These details give the paintings the quality of visual memories. Each fish belongs to a species while remaining attached to a precise encounter.
Water Painting Water
Watercolor feels almost destined for this subject. Stevenson speaks of its relationship with water itself, of transparency, soft transitions and the way pigments continue evolving while the washes dry. Here, medium and subject seem to understand one another.
Up close, his surfaces become fascinating territories. Scales form intricate patterns. Browns, ochres, silvers, blues and yellows seep into one another. In the close-up works, the fish gradually becomes texture. A section of skin can resemble a landscape seen from above, a geological formation, a net, a mosaic or an abstract composition. This shift in scale is particularly interesting because it reveals how much abstraction already exists inside nature. Stevenson brings the eye close enough to discover it.
His process is patient and meticulous. He revisits the experience of the catch, studies photographs, researches locations, observes how particular species move and examines the behaviour of light on water. Layer after layer, the image develops. Such attention explains the extraordinary detail, while the fluidity of watercolor keeps the fish visually alive.
The Hand, the Fish and the Human Story
Some of the most touching works introduce the human hand. A fish rests horizontally across palms and suddenly another relationship enters the composition. The hand gives scale, warmth and vulnerability. Fingers curl beneath the weight of a trout. Skin meets scales. A creature from water rests briefly against a human body.
These works bring a particularly emotional dimension to the exhibition. Stevenson explores the connection between people and their catch, extending his practice towards something more personal. Fishing here becomes an encounter, a moment of physical closeness between two living beings.
His experience with catch-and-release fishing adds another layer to this relationship. The fish can become a brief meeting, observed, held, photographed and returned to its environment. Painting then gives those few moments another duration. The encounter survives through paper, pigment and memory.
From Scotland to Lebanon
Salmon from Scottish rivers and islands appear alongside trout and Mediterranean fish. Geography quietly enters Second Nature. Stevenson’s own life stretches between Britain and Lebanon, and his subjects seem to trace part of that personal journey.
The recent Lebanese series feels especially meaningful. After more than thirty years in Beirut, the waters of Lebanon have naturally entered his artistic territory. The Sailfish from Qalamoun, the Bluefin Tuna from off Amchit, the King Mackerel from Dbayeh, the Amberjack from Jounieh and the Dentex from Anfeh create an unexpected portrait of the Lebanese coast through its marine inhabitants.
We often look at our sea horizontally, towards that immense line where blue meets sky. Stevenson directs the gaze beneath it. Suddenly the Mediterranean acquires bodies, scales, eyes, colours and individual stories.
Looking Beneath the Surface
Second Nature ultimately speaks about attention. Graham Stevenson chooses a subject he has known for most of his life and continues discovering it through painting. His fish become portraits, memories, records of encounters and extraordinary studies of color and texture.
There is something deeply human in this way of looking at another living creature long enough for individuality to appear. A salmon becomes more than a salmon. A tuna acquires character. A trout held between two hands becomes the memory of a particular instant.
Perhaps looking beneath the surface means precisely this. It means allowing the familiar to surprise us again. Stevenson finds an entire world within a fish, and for a moment, standing before these watercolors, the sea feels more alive, more intimate and much closer than we imagined.
