Finished Before I'm Done?

To be honest, sometimes I feel that way about life.  I would imagine everyone feels that way once in a while.  However, that's a little too deep and serious and not really the direction I was going with this post.  

I was thinking more along the lines of how do you know when an art piece is done.  I mean, you can't just stick a fork in it!  Well, of course, you can if that's the look you're going for.  But you know what I mean!

I've debated this question with just about every piece I've ever done.  It seems there's always more that can be added, tweaking that can be done. But how does one know when to quit?  

Good question!

This is just the beginning, so obviously, not yet.

The sky and ground were poured on and moved around with my hand.  The middle is a mix of orange yellow and red dirty poured into puddles.

A little tipping and tilting to spread the puddles and a little blowing with a straw to mess up the straight edges.  Now, at this point, I suppose I could have called this Autumn Abstract and been done with it but that wasn't the look I was going for.

The grass is always greener if you paint it that color!  You may be asking why I didn't use green in the first place, instead of purple.  I was playing around with the idea of dappled shadows under the trees, knowing that I'd probably do a green wash over it.

After playing with some ideas in Autodesk I used a sharpie to doodle on the leaves and create the trunks and branches. I also used a white gel pen on the sky.

At this point, I was considering it done and it could have been.  But every time I looked at it it seemed something was missing.

So I did what usually do: I asked someone else to tell me what to do.  Well, not exactly.  But I did ask my daughter to offer her opinion.  Sometimes having fresh eyes look at what you've been staring at can help.

Is it done?  It could be.

Am I finished? Maybe.

Mighty Oak Tree

Back in September I came across this photo.  I love it for its color and perspective.  I could see it as a poured painting.

So, when a fall painting was requested, this was what I had in my head.

Time to gather the supplies.


I keep a variety of colors of acrylic paint on hand, pre-mixed with mediums and water to a pouring consistency.

A 16x20 inch stretched canvas and
a small butane torch.  The torch is used after pouring to warm the paint, which aids in the creation of cell patterns.

Colors chosen and silicone added.  Silicone also aids in the cell formation.




Let's pour!

I decided on a three-cup flip technique. Each cup was layered with random amounts of all the colors.   The negative space of white and grey was poured after inverting each cup of color onto the canvas.

There's no way to know exactly how much paint you need.  You can only approximate, so at this point, one crosses one's fingers and hopes for a Goldilocks experience. Not too much, not too little, just right.

After lifting the cups, the canvas is tilted this way and that to spread the paint.

Every pour is a surprise!

Another hope that is commonly heard among paint-pourers is "Please let it dry like this!"
A lot can happen after pouring. The paint can continue to move and shift. Unwanted objects can land and stick. The surface can crack.

I'm please to say that this dried nicely.

I love closeups.  As Dorcus Lane would say, "They're my one weakness!"

I decided to create the trunk and branches using paint skins.  I poured the paint onto freezer paper and let dry.

The paint peels off easily and can then be adhered to the canvas.

Let's grow!

And grow!

And of course, some more closeups.

Finished and signed!