In my studio, there is a clock on the wall, but I’ve learned that it rarely keeps the same time as my heart. As I move between working on original oil paintings and mixed media on canvas, I am often struck by a strange paradox: the technical complexity of a piece has almost nothing to do with how long it takes to finish.
Some paintings feel like a sprint, a sudden, urgent conversation. Others are a marathon, requiring weeks of patience and silence.
The Energy of the "Fast" Flow
There are days when the studio feels electric. I walk in, and the vision is already there, demanding to be released. In psychology, this is known as the "Flow State," where your focus becomes so sharp that time seems to disappear. When I am in this state of artistic inspiration, the hand moves faster than the mind can doubt itself.
Take Reflections of Self or Day Dreaming. Both are detailed oil works, yet they came together with a surprising, fluid speed. These pieces capture a specific, high-energy "moment" in my creative journey. They are honest, direct, and carry the pulse of that initial spark.
The Patience of "Slow Art"
Then, there are the pieces that choose to take their time. These aren't necessarily "harder" to paint, but they require a different kind of relationship. They belong to the Slow Art movement, a process where the time spent not painting is just as vital as the brushstrokes themselves.
Guardians of Railay stayed with me for a very long time. Similarly, Diana and La Casalinga demanded a slower rhythm. With these works, I often have to step back for days, waiting for the painting to "speak" back to me. They are built on layers of thought, observation, and emotional shifts. They don't just depict a subject; they record a period of my life.
Focus vs. Complexity
What I’ve discovered is that "fast" art isn't rushed, and "slow" art isn't difficult, it's all about artistic focus. A quick painting is the result of months of subconscious preparation finally finding its way out all at once. A slow painting is a journey of discovery where the destination only reveals itself at the very end.
When you bring one of these pieces into your home, you aren't just buying canvas and pigment; you are buying that specific rhythm of time.
I’m curious, to all the creators and dreamers out there: Do you feel the same way when you are in the middle of your work? Does time seem to bend depending on your focus, regardless of the task at hand? I’d love to hear your experiences in the comments.
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