#39: The Difference Between an Idea and a Painting

Some ideas arrive beautifully. Clean. Clever. Sharp in the mind.

They show up in perfect symmetry, lit by the glow of possibility. You picture the colour palette instantly. You see the structure. You feel the “yes” of it, and you think — I’ve got it.

But then you walk into the studio.

You face the canvas.

And the idea doesn’t behave.

What Looked Simple Isn’t

With my current moiré portrait project, the initial concept felt precise — layer acetate over a face, create a moiré pattern, generate interference, shift perception, paint the whole thing in oil. Perfect.

But the moment I started building and testing, I saw just how many unknowns there really were.

Printing and layering gave me useful images, but trying to bring that depth, motion, and optical weirdness into paint… suddenly, it wasn’t so tidy.

It’s not that the idea is wrong. It’s just that painting makes it real.

And reality is always messier than theory.

The Painting Has Its Own Ideas

What I’ve come to understand — again and again — is that once you start painting, the canvas joins the conversation. The material talks back. The image shifts. The logic of the original idea starts to stretch. And something else begins to emerge.

Not every idea survives that shift.

Some collapse under their own cleverness.

Others become something else entirely.

And sometimes, what seemed like the smallest idea in your sketchbook turns into the piece that actually sings.

Letting the Image Breathe

I’ve had to learn not to grip too tightly. The more I try to force the idea exactly as I first imagined it, the flatter the painting becomes. It starts to feel like illustration, like execution. But painting — real painting — needs space to breathe, to shift, to surprise you.

Somewhere along the way, the painting asks its own questions:

What if this part fades? What if the lines blur more? What if the pattern breaks?

And when I listen, I make better work.

Ideas Are Easy, Paintings Are Honest

There’s a reason some ideas stay in sketchbooks. They’re perfect there — crisp, unresolved, full of potential. But a painting has to stand in the physical world. It has to answer to light and texture and failure.

And that’s what makes it better.

So I keep experimenting. I keep chasing ideas — knowing they’ll change shape when they meet the brush.

That’s not a flaw in the process. That is the process.

.M.

Be real.

Make art.

If you’d like to learn more about my creative process or see my latest work, feel free to reach out or check out the rest of my website.