Juan Gomez: The Narrowboat Artist

Photos by Nessa Pullman

I’d passed this narrow boat parked on Regent’s Canal nearly every weekend on my walk to Broadway Market, always wondering about the man passionately painting inside. One day, curiosity finally nudged me to step aboard and introduce myself to Juan Goméz. After some small talk, I asked if I could return with my camera to capture his story, and we made a plan for the following Sunday. We didn’t exchange numbers or social media—just set a date the old-fashioned way and kept to our word. 

As you approach the narrowboat that houses his workspace, you’re welcomed into Juan’s studio before you even step inside by the traditional salsa music from his Colombian roots playing out loud. As the rhythmic music makes its way into your body, you feel as though you are walking into a party. But Juan is calm and focused—so engaged in his painting that it feels like witnessing a very private exchange. However, instead of feeling like an intruder, you feel like a guest. Being there instantly draws you into his world: one full of colour, music, and movement. It feels like stepping into the very lens through which he sees life, and you feel welcome.

When I arrive, Juan is working on his latest painting. He sets his brush down with gentleness and invites me in. I take in the space as I breathe in the pungent scent of oil paint—this is a studio with intention. Juan gets up to pour tea while I sit by his easel and absorb his work. I want to hear about his life growing up in Colombia. I look past the small kitchenette to the lounge that serves as his gallery, soaking in the colours, shapes, and hues of his paintings. There’s so much I want to ask him, and I’m eager to hear the story behind his brushstrokes.

When we finally sit down to talk, Juan tells me about his childhood—one spent surrounded by the grand works of Matisse, Camille Pissarro, and Claude Monet. His uncle worked at a printing factory and would occasionally bring home faulty prints destined for the bin. From a young age, Juan would spend hours studying those images, trying to understand their concepts and what the artist was trying to convey. A few years later, when Juan was in high school, an art teacher told him that his deep observation and curiosity would make him a good artist—though it would be more than 30 years before he picked up a brush.

When he moved to London a decade ago, he felt it was time to search for a permanent studio and finally begin his work as a painter. Juan was inspired by the "Le bateau-atelier, 1874" painting by Monet of his studio boat, and he knew right then that his own workspace would float on water. This choice felt unusual, even whimsical, but perfectly aligned with his spirit. Juan is expressive yet reserved; his passion is evident but never ostentatious. It’s the quiet intensity of a lifelong love finally given room to breathe.

“I was looking for beauty,” Juan tells me. “Not physical beauty, but how I can discover beauty in my mind through my art.” When I ask what inspires him, he says everything comes from memory. “It’s all related to experiences I’ve had before… the moments that shaped my life.”

Juan has lived in many cities around the world—growing up in Colombia, moving to Mexico City, the United States, and now London. I ask how those experiences have shaped his artistic lens, and whether different places offered different kinds of inspiration. “I can find beauty in any city—art in any condition,” he says. “Because beauty isn’t a physical element; it’s the lens we see through.” 

Looking at the idiosyncratic shapes and deep hues of his paintings, I can see traces of every city he’s lived in. “The landscape and colour palette for beauty exist right here,” he says, gently tapping the side of his head. “For me, the best city to live in is the one you’re in… because the beauty you’ll find there is already inside you.”