I Found an Old Painting

There is something about abstract painting that is calling to me at the moment. I can feel the excitement building as I look at paintings online and begin collecting ideas and little hints from artists on Instagram. I cannot wait to get started, even though I am also discovering that abstract painting is far harder than it looks.

One of the questions I keep returning to is this: what are you actually painting when you paint abstractly? Where do you begin if you are not painting a landscape, flowers or objects?

The more I think about it, the more I realise that the abstracts which move me most are not the ones that explain everything clearly. They are the ones full of colour, texture, atmosphere and mystery. I love hints rather than certainty. I love paintings that leave space to feel something rather than simply recognise something. Often it is an abstract painting that gives me the deepest sense of excitement and inspiration because I am responding to the energy of the marks, the relationships between colours and the physical texture of paint itself.

Recently I looked back through some of my older paintings and found one I absolutely loved. Immediately I realised why. It had the colours that feel natural to me. It felt alive in the way I want my paintings to feel alive.

I had also tried an abstract process inspired by Jenny Nelson. The process itself was enjoyable and freeing, but afterwards I realised I did not really connect with the colours I had used. That small discovery felt important because colour matters deeply to me. It is one of the main ways I express emotion, energy and spirituality in my work.

I am also beginning to notice that my love of intense, saturated colour can sometimes distract me from tone. I become so excited by clean colour that I forget the quieter, softer or more neutral colours that help create balance and depth. Yet whenever I accidentally mix one of those interesting muddy neutrals, I often find myself drawn to it. Those unexpected colours have a richness and subtlety that bright colours alone cannot create.

So I think my first abstract paintings may simply become an exploration of colour. Not trying to force a finished style or a great masterpiece, but learning what happens when my colours meet texture, layers, scraping, printing and space.

Many abstract artists work with black, white and very limited palettes. I rarely use black, so that in itself gives me something to think about. Perhaps part of this new journey is not abandoning the colours I love, but learning how to let them breathe, deepen and speak more clearly.

For now, I am simply enjoying the sense of possibility.