Mandy West didn’t come into art through a traditional route, and that’s part of what makes her work feel alive. She began painting more seriously in 2022, and since then, she’s poured herself into it—mixing materials, pushing boundaries, and refusing to follow a predictable path. She describes herself as a mixed media artist, but more than that, she’s an explorer. One day it’s painting on wax, the next it’s building mountains from plaster, or drawing on metal or wood. She’s not after perfection. She’s after connection.
West likes surprise. She doesn’t want you to look at her work and feel safe in what you expect to see. She wants you to pause. Ask questions. Feel something. Her work has that kind of energy—raw, spiritual, a little chaotic, but honest.
One of her recent pieces, Screen’s Servitors, shows this well. It’s made on heavy cotton paper—A3 size—with layers of dry pastels, watercolor, Indian ink, pigments, and watercolor pencils. It’s not just a mix of materials. It’s a commentary on how tightly screens are woven into our lives. Work, school, art, medicine, communication—it’s all mediated through a device. The image hints at faces becoming screens themselves. It asks, not quietly, if we’re really free anymore—or if we’ve slipped back into a kind of servitude, like in the medieval days, only now the chains are digital.
That’s the thing with West’s work—it doesn’t whisper. It’s bold, layered, and full of thought. But even with that weight, there’s playfulness. She likes to experiment. There’s no single style or medium she sticks to. She paints on wax because she loves the way it shines. She mixes it with Indian ink and pure pigments to pull out new depths of color and texture. It’s about feeling, not formula.
She builds mountains with plaster, shaping and painting them once they’ve dried. Each material brings something different to the conversation. Wax is bright. Plaster holds shape. Metal has weight. Wood gives warmth. For her, art isn’t about choosing the right tool—it’s about letting each one speak.
West is also working on a book of poetry. For her, words and visuals are both part of the same story. She wants her poetry to bring people closer to love, to each other, and to God. Her faith runs through everything she does. It’s not loud or performative, but present. She sees art as a form of service—an offering. It’s how she connects with the world and hopes others will do the same.
That desire to give back is especially clear in her support of Dancing for Rhinos, a South African association fighting poaching in small natural reserves. They also work on a lesser-known issue—vaccination against rabbies released by cats and dogs in townships. It’s a strange, specific problem, but one that’s growing fast. West is trying to help raise awareness and funds through her artwork. She wants to use her creativity for something that matters—to join her love for people, animals, and art into one thread.
That thread is her way of life. There’s no separation for her between art and living. It’s all one stream. She doesn’t treat painting as a hobby or something separate from her values. It’s how she makes sense of things. How she reaches out.
There’s a certain rough grace to West’s work. It doesn’t try to fit into a mold. It questions. It reaches. It surprises. You get the sense she’s chasing something—not fame, not perfection—but something deeper. A kind of truth. A sense of connection, even in a disconnected world.
And that’s what stays with you. Whether she’s layering wax and ink, shaping plaster mountains, or sketching digital ghosts, Mandy West is always trying to link worlds. The spiritual and physical. The natural and artificial. The seen and unseen. Through paint, poetry, or plaster, she’s asking us to pay attention. To notice. To care.
She’s still early in her journey, but her direction is clear. She’ll keep experimenting. Keep creating. Keep linking art with action. And if we’re paying attention, she just might pull us along with her.
