Thinking Bigger: What I’ve Learned from Larger Canvases

For a long time, my work lived in smaller frames—tight, contained, intimate. There’s something safe about that scale. You can hold it all in your mind at once, see the whole thing in a single glance. Mistakes feel more manageable. Decisions feel closer, more personal.

But recently, I’ve started painting bigger. Not just in surface area, but in presence. In breath. And it’s shifted something in the way I think, not just about my work, but about space, gesture, and the body in front of the canvas.

It’s Not Just a Size Thing

Working larger isn’t just about scale—it’s about energy. I notice it in my movements: I’m standing more, stepping back more often, using my whole arm instead of just my wrist. There’s more room to explore, but also more room to get lost.

That’s part of the challenge. A big canvas doesn’t let you finesse your way out of things. You have to commit. The brushstrokes need to speak louder. The composition demands more intention. And yet, there’s also more freedom in that commitment. More permission to let go a little.

Space Changes the Conversation

On a larger canvas, the figures I paint begin to feel more like presences than images. They hold more weight, more silence. They look back.

There’s space for subtleties to breathe. For quiet gestures and loose marks to live alongside each other without fighting for attention. And I’m noticing that I can let certain parts remain unfinished, without the painting feeling incomplete—it feels open.

It’s changing how I think about resolution. About what needs to be there and what can be left out.

Letting the Work Get Bigger, Too

Pictured above, is a painting I am currently working on. It’s my largest work to date and is certainly a challenge as I have reached the point where the figures I am painting are larger than life-sized.

In a way, painting larger is an act of trust. Trusting that I can fill the space—not just physically, but emotionally. That the work can hold more of what I want to say, and maybe more of what I don’t know how to say yet.

It doesn’t always work. Some days the canvas feels too big, too blank, too loud. But more often, I find myself enjoying the stretch. The invitation to be a bit braver, a bit looser, a bit more honest.

Because sometimes the work needs room to breathe. And sometimes, I do too.

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.

.M.

Be real.

Make art.