It's not often I'd walk away from an artist’s work; and if I do, I try to return to it or I find ways for it not to affect me. In fact, Doig’s work is difficult for me to ignore, and I've been at a loss to explain this to myself. I can only do so by trying to recall the wise words of one of my lecturers at film school, the legendary Laura Mulvey, who makes the point to always look for something good in a work of art. In relation to Doig’s work, I'm still looking. Maybe one day I'll understand it.

Walking in the footsteps of Gauguin (if, indeed, that's what Doig is doing), his Trinidad series doesn't share the same terrain—that of intimacy and compassion. Instead, the those paintings appear to be distant and cold, murky, entering the filmic realms. But that's not Doig’s intention; he says, "people often say that my paintings remind them of particular scenes from films or from certain passages from books, but I think it’s a different thing altogether. There is something more primal about painting."  But the fact remains that Doig’s work does resemble still frames from motion pictures. His "Rasta in the Thicket in Trinidad" could easily be a shot out of Predator.

Doig states that he discusses the primal in his paintings. The question then begs to be asked: Is the primal dark, unknown and exotic? Gauguin had wanted to find a primitive world, too, and explore the unknown. One can't say what motivates Doig; is it, in fact, the same thing that motivated Gauguin?

"The reason why I am leaving is that I wish to live in peace and to avoid being influenced by our civilization. I only desire to create a simple art. In order to achieve this, it is necessary for me to steep myself in virgin nature, to see no one but savages, to share their life and have as my sole occupation to render, just as children would do, the images of my own brain, using exclusively the means offered by primitive art, which are the only true and valid ones."

Gauguin was greatly influenced by his Peruvian and French heritage. This is apparent in the work he did in Polynesia—bold lines and use of bold colors to punctuate emotions. And, of course, there was the deep understanding of his craft, which has made his creations timeless. Like many artists, Gauguin's work sold far more successfully after his death. He was much loved by the Russians, a testament to which is the very large collection of his paintings held at the Pushkin Gallery. His work is reported to sell between £25 and 30 million ($49,556,177 - $59,467,412). Doig’s already goes at £6 million ($11,893,482) per piece.

Doig was born in Scotland and raised in Canada and the Caribbean, then came to London in the late ‘70s.  His influences are his upbringing: modern art and popular culture.

Somerset Maugham was inspired by Gauguin to write The Moon and Sixpence. Doig, as a character, appears in a novel by F G Cottam. Doig has yet, however, to be sainted as Gauguin has been.

The two painters couldn't be more different: Gauguin died of syphillis; Doig is a happily married man with children and a penchant for clean living. Doig paints from photographs; Gauguin drew from flesh and blood experience. Gauguin's work is enduring, whereas Doig’s feels trapped and time sensitive.

Tate Britain has dedicated an enormous amount of space to Peter Doig’s recent exhibition, which was extended to mid-May. Those who partook of it, may have found it a worthwhile experience. Perhaps they fathom in Doig’s work that which continues to escape me.