There are moments when words are not enough. Moments when the mind is a whirlwind of sensations, memories, and emotions that seem to have no order, no direction. That’s when color becomes my language, the palette knife my instrument of dialogue, and the canvas the place where everything takes shape.
The Energy of Color and Matter
Every color has a soul, and sometimes, it even has a full-blown personality (and a bit of an attitude). Blue is the deep thinker, always pondering the mysteries of the universe and the meaning of life. The kind of color that drags you into existential conversations at 2 AM when all you wanted was a glass of water. Red, on the other hand, is the life of the party—bold, passionate, setting the canvas on fire like a celebratory toast gone wild. And yellow? The eternal optimist who keeps telling you to “smile” even when you’re in the middle of a creative breakdown and just want to hide under the table.
When I choose my colors, it’s never just about aesthetics—it’s a full-on therapy session with my palette. Some days, I need bold contrasts, colors that clash like noisy neighbors arguing over a parking spot. Other days, I seek peaceful harmonies, soft strokes, and shades that whisper sweet nothings to each other. One way or another, my energy ends up on the canvas—through vivid tones, bold overlays, and chromatic battles that (almost always) find their balance.
Then there’s the material itself. Oil paint isn’t just a medium; it has a mind of its own. It wants to be heard, understood, respected. If you try to force it, it retaliates—bleeding into places it shouldn’t, refusing to dry when you need it to, blending into shades you never asked for. I can’t just draw a clean line—no, that would be too easy. I have to adjust my pressure, work with the resistance of the palette knife, negotiate with each stroke of color like I’m handling a high-stakes diplomatic meeting.
And it’s precisely in this chaotic, unpredictable dance between me, the colors, and the material that I find my energy. Is it a struggle? Sometimes, yes. But it’s also the greatest form of freedom I know.
The Palette Knife: Balancing Control and Freedom
Working with a palette knife is a dance between intention and unpredictability. Unlike a brush, which allows for smooth lines and refined details, the knife demands bolder, broader gestures. It’s not just a tool for spreading paint—it’s an instrument that imprints energy onto the canvas.
There’s a precise moment when my hand moves with confidence but also with the desire to be surprised. The edge of the knife glides across the surface, creating textures, fragments, vibrations. Every stroke can bring an unexpected result—a shadow that adds depth, a cluster of paint that becomes a focal point, an accidental blend that gives birth to a new tone. It’s a delicate balance between controlled movement and the freedom to let the unexpected emerge.
The Magic of the Creative Process
I paint because I need to. Because when my energy feels blocked, when I feel empty, it is through color and form that I find myself again. Every painting starts with uncertainty, but the more I progress, the more I feel the flow returning, the energy transforming into something tangible.
Sometimes, it happens almost suddenly—a color that vibrates against another, a line that breaks monotony and creates dynamism, a reflection of light that changes the perception of the entire composition. It’s a moment of revelation, where I feel connected to something greater, where painting is not just an action but an experience of total immersion.
When I work on a piece, it’s as if I enter a silent dialogue with myself. The canvas listens and responds, the colors guide me, the palette knife moves in rhythm with my breath. Every choice is a piece of my energy taking shape.
And when the painting is finished, I know that something inside me has changed—I have left a part of myself on the canvas, and at the same time, I have found new energy to continue creating.
Art is this: an invisible dialogue between soul and matter, between intuition and technique, between the need to express and the desire to be surprised. And it is precisely in this exchange that I find my energy—every day, every time color meets the canvas.
