The Story Between the Marks

Many artists have heard it at least once:

“My five-year-old could do that.”

Maybe they could.

But what many people don’t realize is that when recognizable subjects disappear, the fundamentals of art become even more important. Shape, line, value, color, texture, movement, rhythm, balance, and composition all have to work together. One line can throw an entire painting off balance. One color can shift the emotional weight of the whole piece.

Abstract art is not random.

It may appear spontaneous, but beneath the surface is constant decision-making. Every mark asks another question. Should this stay? Should it disappear? Does this area need more energy or more quiet? Something beautiful may have to be scraped away because it no longer serves the whole. Other times an unexpected accident becomes exactly what the painting was waiting for.

For me, a painting usually begins with a feeling rather than an image. I don’t always know where it’s going. Through layering, scraping, palette knife work, adding texture, covering passages, and revealing others, the painting slowly begins to tell me what it wants to become.

There is a conversation taking place.

The viewer becomes part of that conversation. Unlike representational art, abstract painting asks you to bring something of yourself. Your memories. Your emotions. Your experiences. Two people can stand in front of the same painting and walk away with completely different stories—and both can be true.

Perhaps that’s the gift of abstraction.

It doesn’t tell you what to see.

It invites you to discover what you already carry within yourself.

So the next time someone says, “My five-year-old could do that,” perhaps the better question is not could they?

It’s what story do you find between the marks?