Learning to Paint a Feeling

About four years ago, I was in the middle of painting another surfer girl. I was excited about the painting. I loved painting the girl, and I especially loved painting the van because it was a new subject for me.

The painting was accurate and, I thought, really pretty. But as I got close to finishing it, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

I changed the clouds, giving them more color and a moody, reddish tone. I've always loved adding unexpected pops of color rather than simply trying to make everything look natural. But even that didn't solve the problem.

I kept looking at my other surfer paintings and wondering, “What am I missing?”

Eventually, I realized I wasn't looking for a better way to paint a surfer. I wanted to paint the feeling of surfing.

Learning to Paint the Feeling

I already knew how to paint what a surfer looks like. What I wanted was to capture how it feels to actually be there—the peace, happiness, freedom, and quiet of being surrounded by water.

I began to realize that some of the expressive brushstrokes I loved in my earlier work had gotten lost as I became more technically skilled. Sometimes, as we improve our skills, we become more careful. In the process, some of the spontaneity can disappear.

I wanted to find a way to bring some of that expressive quality back into my work.

That realization became one of the reasons I decided to go to art school.

Finding My Process

I wanted to improve my drawing skills, learn to use oils more confidently, and develop a stronger artistic voice. I experimented with different materials and techniques and learned what I liked—and just as importantly, what I didn't like.

Gradually, those experiments led me toward the process I use today.

I work in layers. I may not know exactly what the finished painting will look like when I begin, but I know the process I'm going to follow. I use essentially the same process each time, with small variations depending on the painting.

That consistency has given me something I didn't have before: confidence.

I now have much more confidence in my ability to paint just about anything. The question is no longer whether I can paint it. It's whether I want to paint it with a lot of detail or allow the painting to remain more expressive.

Letting Go of the References

As I painted more, I became less dependent on references for my backgrounds.

At first, I used examples of flowing ink and abstract artwork to help me imagine what I wanted the background to look like. Eventually, I realized I didn't need those references as much.

Now, I use references differently. I think about where the darks and lights need to be. I consider reflections and how light interacts with the subject. I think about how I want the viewer's eye to travel through the painting. Then I allow myself to make more intuitive decisions about the movement and placement of the paint.

The more I work this way, the more emotion I feel in my paintings. They feel more connected to the peaceful experience I am trying to capture—whether that is being under the water, standing at the beach, or simply being present in a beautiful place.

Creating a Cohesive Collection

Another big change I've noticed is how my paintings work together as a collection.

In my older work, I might paint several pieces with similar subjects, but each painting could have completely different colors and a completely different feel. They didn't necessarily make sense together when hung on a wall.

Now, I always consider how the paintings will hang together. I want the collection to feel cohesive. The colors should relate to one another, while each painting still has its own personality.

I also like to add unexpected and whimsical elements throughout the backgrounds that encourage the viewer's eye to move around the entire painting.

One painting often leads naturally to the next. I'll finish one or two pieces, and something in them will spark an idea for another painting. I can take that idea in a new direction without completely changing the visual language I've developed.

Finding My Voice

I'm still not sure I would say I've completely found my voice. Maybe that's something that continues to evolve throughout an artist's life. But I have found a version of it that feels comfortable and, more importantly, feels like me.

I have a process that works for me. I have more confidence in my skills. I understand how to make technical decisions while still leaving room for spontaneity and expression.

Art school taught me so much, and I'm incredibly grateful for the experience. It improved my skills, but it also changed the way I see the world.