Learning to Trust the Painting

Learning to Trust the Painting

Painting is cathartic for me long before the first drop of paint touches the canvas. It begins with an image forming in my mind: a feeling, a memory, or a combination of colors I can’t quite let go of. Then comes the search for subject matter that gives that idea somewhere to land.

Putting down the first paint is exciting. What follows isn’t always comfortable. There is usually a moment when I step back, look at what I’ve done, and think, “I don’t like this.” The painting in front of me hasn’t caught up with the one in my head, and I question where it’s going.

As I mature as an artist, I’m learning to stay with that uncertainty. I keep working, adding texture, changing colors, scraping back, and letting the painting suggest its own direction. Sometimes the most satisfying passages grow out of the areas I struggled with most.

That process gives me somewhere to put my thoughts and emotions. I become absorbed in the work, and for a while, the noise of everything else quiets down.

Then comes the surprise of sharing it. After all that private questioning, someone responds almost immediately. They see something beautiful, feel a connection, or tell me it reminds them of a place they love. They’re responding to a painting I nearly gave up on.

That still amazes me. Each finished piece teaches me a little more about trusting the process—and giving an idea the time it needs to become something worth sharing.