In my Facebook Group I was recently asked the question “Is this painting finished?” When I used to teach in schools it was my job to decide for the students when their work was finished. I would send them back time and again, until it became almost a game, to go and ‘just lighten that area’ or ‘make a stronger contrast here’,…. Until it was clean-up time and then magically all would be finished. Well, until next time perhaps.
My paintings go through a process which I am so familiar with now that I can recognize tell-tale signs when I may be getting close. At the beginning of the painting my concern is to cover the canvas – with anything. At this stage when I paint, my brush is big and the brushstrokes are broad. I pour the paint on and use squeegees or scrapers to spread it around. I am not thinking at all about what it looks like or if I am making a good painting. I’m just building the foundations.
Then I start adding colour, but I’m still just playing with paint and materials. At this stage I’m curious about what may accidentally happen, or what combinations of marks or colour may catch my eye. The colours at this stage can be raw and unrefined, but I know that this is the beginning of the paintings evolution and we have a few more mutations to work through.
When you start refining is when you can get tripped up. Changing the colour to be more subtle, adding detail for more complexity and building what is already interesting in the painting; the piece can start looking good and the excitement builds. It is at this stage that beginners often fall in love with the work and start asking the ‘Is it finished?’ question. There will be parts of the painting that they love and not wanting to lose them can sometimes see them putting the paintbrush down and reaching for the varnish.
I work in series of about 7 paintings at a time. Putting a painting to one side when I feel excited about how it’s looking and think it’s probably done is a vital part of my process. I then go on to work on another, and get that one looking better and invariable the previous painting suddenly needs lifting further. This continuous rotating of work lifts the level of them all until finally one by one they have pushed each other to become so much more satisfying than if I had just concentrated on finishing one before starting another.
When I notice the changes I am making to a painting are very small, I know that I am getting close and that probably I should walk away before stifling it with too much micro-level attention. It is important at this stage to force myself to still be bold and take risks and not to become too tight in the marks I am making. Using a scraper, squeegee shouldn’t be out of the question even at this late stage, but can often be followed by a cloth to wipe away unwanted marks.
Late in the painting, I often feel I am subtracting more than I am adding.
There are a few questions I ask when deciding if a painting is done. These questions I am constantly asking throughout the painting process, but when the answers are clear, then I can start considering it’s finished.
1. Does my eye flow easily around the painting and not get hooked anywhere in particular?
2. Are there differences in the design of the painting? I don’t want to see lots of repetition (unless I want repetition of course). I don’t want to repeat myself when I could be more effective with one strong statement, as it were.
3. What is the hero in this painting? What is this painting about and is it clear? What can I take away or should I tone down distracting minor players?
4. Is it strong from a distance? And does it have lots of interest up close?
5. Do I love it? Am I proud of it? Or is there a nagging gut feel about it? If so, I need to question that, and it probably means it’s not finished.
When I am unclear on any one of these questions it is best to put the painting aside and work on something else, so that I can look at it with fresh eyes another day. I make a note of what I felt about it so that I don’t forget (younger people may not have to do this, but it’s a good habit to get into, especially if you plan on getting old!). I don’t start ‘fixing’ things until some time has past. If I’m getting bogged down with a lot of thinking, it’s usually a good time to pivot.
One thing I constantly keep in mind is that by adding more paint – even if it’s the wrong colour, doesn’t fix the original problem, or creates another; in the end it will only make the painting better. The surface will get richer, and I will be putting myself right in the place where I can discover something new.
I always remind myself of a painting I did last year which caused me no end of grief. I couldn’t find a place for it to settle and painted so many iterations that the surface was thick with paint, but that nagging voice wouldn’t be silenced. Finally, I don’t know what I did, but suddenly I loved it and I could see what needed to be done. I finished it quickly and it sold almost immediately. I called it my ‘dog to darling’ painting. I’m so pleased I had that tortuous experience for the ease it now gives me to push through similar problematic paintings. It’s so exciting when the dog becomes a darling. By being too scared to make changes and ‘finishing’ too quickly doesn’t give the painting a chance to be an absolute winner.