The art of not knowing
The painting process can be a wild adventure
I’m in the middle of a series of new paintings and I’ve been thinking about the process of creating paintings. And what I am thinking is this: it’s a wild adventure.
I usually don’t know where I’m going. Each painting is a thrilling ride, leading me to somewhere new and unknown. Although I’m uncertain where the paintings will end up, I go there gladly.
Holding initial ideas loosely
The way I paint may sound bananas to you. I start with some very loose ideas, fragments of things dancing around in my possibility pile, but I hold onto these lightly. I try to welcome in surprise and delight and not miss any of the interesting bits along the way.
Instead of planning out my paintings, I have a fragment of an idea and I simply paint and observe what develops. Build up paintings layer by layer. Only glimpses of the first layer will be visible in the final painting. This not knowing bit used to feel a little daunting. Now I rather revel in it.
Embracing uncertainty
Embracing this uncertainty is now actually a key aspect of my process. The heading out on an adventure, the endeavour, the layers, the problem solving, the journey of a painting, through the good and the bad feels like the point.
And the uncertainty hasn’t lessened over the years. I’ve been working as a professional artist since 2013, and most of the time, I still don’t entirely know what I’m doing.
I mean that metaphorically and quite literally.
People often imagine that experience removes uncertainty from art making. That professional artists somehow know exactly what they’re doing in the studio and where everything is heading. That experience generates a clearer map. I’m not sure it does.
I think experience generates a greater comfort with not knowing and a greater confidence in getting yourself unstuck.
A painting that I think is finished. I tend to live with then for a while before I decide.
A freedom and lots of decisions
One of the things I just love about semi-abstract painting is also what makes it challenging.
There often isn’t a fixed reference point or anchor. No exact idea of what the painting has to look like in the end.
That freedom is exhilarating, but it also means the work is built through decisions. Hundreds of small decisions. Too much. Not enough. Leave it. Push it further. Paint over it. Keep going.
Colour, balance, tension, rhythm, texture, design. Whether something awkward is beginning to become interesting, or whether it simply isn’t working.
Only some of those decisions can be solved intellectually. I don’t control the outcome from the beginning. I like to build up layers of richness. I paint and respond. Make a move, respond, respond again. And see where the painting ends up… paying close attention and trying to enjoy the ride.
The process is part of the point
There is no one way to construct a painting. No right way. Find a way that thrills you. Find a way that feels exciting to you. Find a process that clearly reflects what you love in the end result, that reflects what you are trying to express. Find a way that feels like your own adventure.