🌊 Returning to the Sea: Rediscovering Landscape Painting

For years, my brush has been devoted to the human form. Portraits and figurative art have shaped my artistic rhythm, offering a structure I’ve come to rely on—a kind of choreography where each step leads naturally to the next. There’s a comfort in that. A face, after all, follows a certain logic: bone structure, shadow, emotion. Once you’ve internalized the anatomy and mastered the nuances of skin tone and light, the process becomes almost mathematical. Not easy, but familiar.

But recently, I’ve felt the need to break away.

Art, for me, has never been about staying in one lane. It’s about movement, evolution, and sometimes, discomfort. That’s why I’ve returned to landscape painting—specifically, a sea scene. It’s been years since I’ve painted the ocean, and I’ll be honest: I feel completely at sea. Pun intended.

I’ve found myself staring at the canvas, unsure of what to do next. With figurative work, I know the sequence—sketch, block in shadows, refine features, build depth. But with this sea scene, I’m fumbling. How do I convey the weight of the sky pressing down on the horizon? How do I paint the hush of dusk settling over the water? These are questions that don’t have easy answers.

And yet, this is precisely why I’m drawn to it.

Unlike portraits, landscapes don’t offer a clear roadmap. There’s no “correct” way to paint a wave crashing against the shore, no formula for capturing the stillness of water or the motion of a sunset. Landscapes are wild. They’re free. And that freedom, while exhilarating, can also be paralyzing.

There’s a misconception that landscapes are simpler than portraits. I disagree. Portraits follow rules; landscapes break them. They demand intuition, emotion, and a willingness to let go of control. You can’t force a wave to behave. You have to feel it.

So here I am, relearning how to trust my instincts. I remind myself of something I’ve believed since the very first day I picked up a brush: just start. Make the first mark. Let your passion for art guide you. The rest will follow.

This painting may not come easily, but it’s teaching me something invaluable—that growth often begins where certainty ends.