Journal
Why I Sometimes Hold Onto Paintings Before Letting Them Go
One of the unexpected challenges of being a full-time artist is deciding when a painting is truly ready to leave the studio.
It isn't always when the paint is dry.
Each finished work teaches me something about the next. A colour relationship reveals itself, a recurring shape begins to emerge, or a compositional decision quietly evolves into a new direction. What initially feels like a single painting often turns out to be the beginning of a conversation.
If every work leaves the studio as soon as it is completed, that conversation can be interrupted before it has the chance to fully unfold.
I've come to realise that I don't create paintings in isolation. I create bodies of work.
When several paintings remain together in the studio, they begin to inform one another in ways that aren't always obvious while they're still on the easel. I can step back and notice subtle connections in colour, rhythm, transparency or botanical forms. One painting might reveal what another needs, or suggest an entirely new direction that couldn't have been anticipated at the outset.
The visual language becomes clearer because the paintings are able to coexist for a time.
This doesn't mean the works are unfinished. Rather, they continue to contribute to the evolution of the series simply by being present together.
For many artists, there is a natural tension between maintaining a sustainable practice and allowing enough time for a body of work to mature. Sharing work with collectors and galleries is an essential part of making a living, and I'm incredibly grateful that my paintings find homes where they are valued and enjoyed.
At the same time, I've begun to appreciate the importance of occasionally resisting the urge to release every finished piece immediately.
Holding onto selected works allows me to understand the collection as a whole rather than as individual paintings. It gives me the opportunity to refine relationships between works, strengthen recurring ideas and recognise directions that may otherwise remain hidden.
Perhaps most importantly, it allows the paintings to speak to one another before they begin speaking to the world.
As my practice continues to evolve, I'm becoming increasingly interested in developing cohesive bodies of work—collections where each painting contributes to a larger visual conversation about memory, landscape and our relationship with the natural world.
Sometimes that conversation simply needs a little more time before it leaves the studio.