The Beauty in Imperfection

There’s a moment in almost every painting when I think I’ve gone too far. The surface feels chaotic - marks overlap, colours clash, and nothing seems balanced. In the past, that used to fill me with frustration. Now, I’ve learned to recognise it as the turning point - the moment when something honest begins to happen.

Painting abstractly has taught me that imperfection isn’t failure; it’s language. The uneven edges, the accidental drips, the traces left behind - they all carry emotion. Each layer records a decision, a hesitation, or a moment of letting go.

Letting Go of Control

In my process, I rarely begin with a clear plan. I build and destroy layers until a rhythm appears - a balance between control and surrender. Some areas stay untouched, while others are reworked again and again.

“I’ve learned that the beauty of a painting lies not in what’s perfect, but in what’s true.”

When I step back and look at a finished piece, it’s never the smooth or polished parts I connect with most. It’s the marks that feel alive - the places where the paint decided what it wanted to be.

A Reflection of Life

Art mirrors life in that way. We can’t plan every step or predict every outcome, but we can show up, make marks, and trust that something meaningful will emerge.

Imperfection gives art its pulse. It allows space for emotion, humanity, and surprise - all the things that make us stop and look a little longer.