My Abstract Process From First to Last Stroke

Let the painting begin!

The freedom and the journey are what I love most about abstract painting. Sometimes I begin by painting a solid color as the base on the canvas, other times I begin with a white, raw canvas. For me, it's all based on my feelings and inspiration. There are no rules in my studio. It energizes me no matter if I'm facing a tiny 3x3 miniature or a massive 30x40 canvas—I need that exact same spark to begin.

When I started this painting, all I knew was that I wanted to begin with blue water with no end in sight. You can see hints of the hot pink color I blended into the blue. This is an example of beginning with a solid color background of acrylic paint blended with gloss gel.

Finding the rhythm in the raw texture

Once that initial choice is made, the first layer is all about pure momentum and intuition. I treat the canvas like a blank stage and approach it as an improv show. Occasionally I’ll have a suggestion from the “audience”, which is an emotion, thought or idea I want to base the painting around.

I choose my colors and begin. Gels, both gloss and matte, are my best friends. I love working with them, so I incorporate them in the majority of my paintings. After I’ve laid down a base—freestyle or solid color—I decide what’s next. This is when I begin mixing paint with gels and building layers. It’s pure joy for me to see them on the canvas. I use brushes and palette knives, a metal fork, q-tips, toothpicks, stuffing from a pillow, and whatever I think will be fun to try to discover new patterns I can create on the thick gels. Sometimes it’s a major fail and I hate the impression, but I can easily smooth it over and begin again—never to be seen again!

For this piece, I started on a raw white canvas. To create the background coat, I placed plastic wrap over dollops of paint, pressing and guiding the colors across the canvas to blend them.

Stepping back to let it speak

The most critical part of my process actually involves putting the brush down, letting it dry, and looking at it as a whole. I love to sit back, chill out, and spend time living with the canvas while it’s in its raw, mid-way state.

I’ll look at the shapes emerging from the layers and figure out what the painting is trying to say. Once the path becomes clear, I go back in with deliberate control—sharpening lines, adding metallic accents, or dropping in finer details to anchor the composition. A piece is only finished when that initial chaotic freedom and the final, deliberate details find a perfect balance. It’s a wild, unpredictable journey every single time, but that escape is exactly why I do it.

xx,

Heather

In this triptych I’ve used both gloss and matte gels to demonstrate different states of mind. This piece is called Your Brain on Drugs.

Why Abstract Art Doesn't Need Explaining

“I really love the colors and the texture of this piece, but I just don’t think I understand abstract art.” If you haven’t said this out loud, you have probably thought it. 

It’s an uncomfortable feeling. It makes people feel like they are standing outside a room where everyone else knows a secret. They assume that if they can’t look at a highly textured canvas and instantly decode a hidden, academic message, they aren't qualified to own it. There are no right or wrong answers. It’s whatever you see and feel.

Nature doesn't explain itself, but we give ourselves permission to admire and appreciate it.

The Trap of the "Hidden Meaning"

When I am standing at my easel, layering acrylics, or manipulating textured gel mediums with a palette knife, I am not writing a textbook. I am not trying to create a mystery for you to solve. 

Take a moment to look at a flower floating in a pond of chaos, or the electric, wild gaze of a lion catching the flashing strobe lights of a dark room. There is no logic to it. There is only a physical, visceral collision of energy, color, and raw emotion.

When you look at an original abstract painting and your heart rate ticks up, or a specific shade of furiously wild magenta makes you catch your breath, your brain is already doing the exact work it’s supposed to do. You are feeling an echo of the movement and intensity that went into creating those physical layers on the canvas.

Why Abstraction is Your Invitation, Not an Exam

Abstract art isn't an elite club with a barrier to entry. It is an open invitation.

When a painting has strict, defined boundaries—like a perfect photographic landscape—the story belongs entirely to the artist. But when a piece is open, fluid, and focused on pure texture and color, the story becomes a partnership between the painting and you.

• The artwork changes with you: A piece that feels chaotic and high-energy on a rainy Tuesday might feel triumphant and celebratory on a sunny Friday afternoon.

• Your perspective is the final layer: You don't need a degree in art history to justify why a painting belongs in your living room. If a texture calls to you, if a vibrant clash of color makes you stop and stare, that is the only validation you will ever need.

Finding Your Piece

You have complete permission to buy art simply because it makes you feel something. You don't need to explain it to your guests, you don't need to decode it for yourself out loud. You know how it makes you feel and that it is personal to you. This is what I love the most about art. It’s yours. 

If you are ready to trust your instincts and find a piece that speaks directly to your space without asking for permission, take a look through my latest collection of original abstract and nature paintings. Let yourself find the one that pulls you in—no explanations required.

xx,

Heather