Space to Breathe

Working on these small abstract paintings has made me think a lot about space. The paintings are only 6 × 6 inches, but even within that tiny surface there can be a surprising amount of room. A large pale field might sit beside one darker shape. A narrow strip of colour can divide the surface. A small interruption can suddenly change the balance of everything around it. I’m beginning to realise that the quieter areas matter just as much as the more active ones.

At first, it can be tempting to keep adding. Another shape, another mark, another colour. But I’m learning that an abstract painting doesn’t necessarily become stronger because it contains more information. Sometimes the opposite is true.

One of the things I’m enjoying most is allowing a large area of colour to remain relatively simple while the surface itself carries the complexity.  I can build a colour in layers, scrape back into it, drag a dry brush across the surface or leave a glimpse of an earlier colour underneath. A shape can remain clear and simple while still holding a sense of history. That balance is becoming important to me. Strong structure, but a loose surface. Clear shapes, but paint that still feels alive.

I’m also becoming more aware of visual weight — how much room one shape occupies, what feels dominant, where the eye comes to rest and where a small accent is enough. On such a small panel, even a slight change in proportion can alter the whole painting. The hardest part is knowing when to stop. I’m trying to ask myself a simple question: Will the next mark strengthen the painting, or am I just adding because there is space available? Sometimes the answer is to add something. Sometimes it is to scrape something away. And sometimes the painting simply needs to be left alone. I’m beginning to trust that more.

Space isn’t what’s left over once the painting is finished. It is one of the things holding the painting together. And perhaps giving a painting room to breathe is sometimes the most important decision of all.