A lot of abstract painters begin their paintings by making marks on the blank canvas: squiggly marks, straight marks, thick and thin marks, circles, squares, marks made with pencils, with oil sticks, with tailor’s chalk. It’s a great way to get a feel for the canvas, to loosen up one’s limbs and one’s mind, to work intuitively. The marks often get covered up later, but some can still be seen peeking through the multiple layers of paint that have been added. This initial mark-making exercise is a way to greet the canvas and simply begin the process of building a painting, to be loose, free and playful. It works best if it’s done without thought or intention. Some painters even do this part with their eyes closed.

 

Many continue this mark-making process as they build the layers of their paintings, and the finished piece is ultimately about the marks themselves. Others fold their marks into the layers as they go. Painters develop signature marks that appear again and again in their work. 

 

Being relatively new to this medium, I’m in the process of figuring out how the marks I make reflect the way I’m feeling or thinking. I do believe there’s a connection. Sometimes my marks get obscured by the opaque colors I apply later, but I always like seeing some of them peek through. Other times the marks, whether done with paint, graphite, scraping, dripping or splattering take center stage.

I’ve got a long way to go, but my painting practice has at least become a daily activity. Mark-making is cathartic for me. If I’m angry, so are they. If I’m feeling hopeful, they seem hopeful. If I’m sad, they are too. Painting abstractly has been the perfect fit, allowing me to explore my feelings and figuring out ways to let them to make their way to the canvas.

 

My paintings are often a conversation with Eddie. They’ve helped me navigate my grief in ways I could have never imagined.

 

And let’s face it. The world is a sh*t show these days. The act of creating is as necessary as ever. I hope you’ll watch this 15-minute TED TALK called “The Case for Making Art When the World is in Fire” by writer Aimie McNee and consider ways to express your own creativity during these dismal times… ways to make your own mark, if you will.

 

Here’s what I’ve painted lately. They are 30” x 30” or 36” x 36” acrylic on canvas. They’re personal, just like the marks that sit on top of or just beneath the surface. Happily, I’m learning that the work is resonating with others. That makes me feel seen and connected at a time in my life when it’s easy to feel otherwise.

 

You might be interested to know I frequently paint over paintings and then paint over them again. If you look closely, you’ll see that “Waves” became “A New Arrangement” which became “A Different Arrangement.” Sometimes I’m unhappy with myself for not realizing a painting is finished. That was the case here, but I know it’s all part of the learning process. And if I’m really honest with myself, it’s more about the trip than the arrival.


Titles:

I Can Still See You (pictured above)
Beneath the Surface
Tears
Santa Fe
Storm
Night Sky
Our House
Naples
New Orleans
After the Rain
Call Me When You Get This
Waves
A New Arrangement
A Different Arrangement
Did You Get My Letter?
Under the Sea (diptych)

My Blog

make a mark

8/24/2025


A lot of abstract painters begin their paintings by making marks on the blank canvas: squiggly marks, straight marks, thick and thin marks, circles, squares, marks made with pencils, with oil sticks, with tailor’s chalk. It’s a great way to get a feel for the canvas, to loosen up one’s limbs and one’s mind, to work intuitively. The marks often get covered up later, but some can still be seen peeking through the multiple layers of paint that have been added. This initial mark-making exercise is a way to greet the canvas and simply begin the process of building a painting, to be loose, free and playful. It works best if it’s done without thought or intention. Some painters even do this part with their eyes closed.

 

Many continue this mark-making process as they build the layers of their paintings, and the finished piece is ultimately about the marks themselves. Others fold their marks into the layers as they go. Painters develop signature marks that appear again and again in their work. 

 

Being relatively new to this medium, I’m in the process of figuring out how the marks I make reflect the way I’m feeling or thinking. I do believe there’s a connection. Sometimes my marks get obscured by the opaque colors I apply later, but I always like seeing some of them peek through. Other times the marks, whether done with paint, graphite, scraping, dripping or splattering take center stage.

I’ve got a long way to go, but my painting practice has at least become a daily activity. Mark-making is cathartic for me. If I’m angry, so are they. If I’m feeling hopeful, they seem hopeful. If I’m sad, they are too. Painting abstractly has been the perfect fit, allowing me to explore my feelings and figuring out ways to let them to make their way to the canvas.

 

My paintings are often a conversation with Eddie. They’ve helped me navigate my grief in ways I could have never imagined.

 

And let’s face it. The world is a sh*t show these days. The act of creating is as necessary as ever. I hope you’ll watch this 15-minute TED TALK called “The Case for Making Art When the World is in Fire” by writer Aimie McNee and consider ways to express your own creativity during these dismal times… ways to make your own mark, if you will.

 

Here’s what I’ve painted lately. They are 30” x 30” or 36” x 36” acrylic on canvas. They’re personal, just like the marks that sit on top of or just beneath the surface. Happily, I’m learning that the work is resonating with others. That makes me feel seen and connected at a time in my life when it’s easy to feel otherwise.

 

You might be interested to know I frequently paint over paintings and then paint over them again. If you look closely, you’ll see that “Waves” became “A New Arrangement” which became “A Different Arrangement.” Sometimes I’m unhappy with myself for not realizing a painting is finished. That was the case here, but I know it’s all part of the learning process. And if I’m really honest with myself, it’s more about the trip than the arrival.


Titles:

I Can Still See You (pictured above)
Beneath the Surface
Tears
Santa Fe
Storm
Night Sky
Our House
Naples
New Orleans
After the Rain
Call Me When You Get This
Waves
A New Arrangement
A Different Arrangement
Did You Get My Letter?
Under the Sea (diptych)