Working Without a Map…

Beginnings…

Most of my paintings begin without a clear destination.

I might start with a remembered place, a particular quality of light, or the feeling of weather moving through a landscape — but rarely with a fixed image in mind. Over the years, I’ve learned that not knowing where a piece is going isn’t a problem to be solved. It’s a space to work within.

Working without a map has become an essential part of my process.

There is a temptation, especially when time feels precious, to rush towards resolution. To tidy. To explain. To make a painting arrive somewhere recognisable as quickly as possible. But for me, the most meaningful work happens when I allow uncertainty to remain present for longer.

In mixed media, this feels particularly important. Layers are added, obscured, softened, interrupted. Marks appear and then recede. Sometimes the most useful thing I can do is step away — to let the painting rest, to allow what’s already there to assert itself.

Often, it’s in these pauses that the work begins to reveal its direction.

I’ve come to trust that a painting knows more than I do at the beginning. My role is not to impose order too quickly, but to respond — to notice what feels alive, what feels heavy, what needs space. Surprise is a vital part of this. If a piece doesn’t surprise me at least once, I know I’ve been too cautious.

The artist Agnes Martin once said,

“You don’t need to know what you’re doing to be creative.”

I return to this often. Not-knowing is not a failure of preparation; it’s an invitation to stay open. To listen. To let the work guide the next decision rather than forcing it to comply with an early idea.

Of course, not every painting resolves itself. Some remain unresolved, teaching me more through what they resist than what they offer. But even those pieces have their place. They stretch the boundaries of what I understand — and what I’m willing to trust.

Working without a map requires patience and humility. It asks for confidence without certainty. But it is also where the most honest work emerges — work shaped not by control, but by attention, curiosity, and a willingness to follow rather than lead.

The way it is, we are waiting for a revelation. Maybe it will come, maybe it won’t, but meanwhile, keep listening, keep painting.
— William Stafford

Just keep going…

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Why I Keep Returning to the Same Landscapes…