Is a painting ever really finished?

Sometimes, I’m still adjusting a piece even after it’s framed and hanging in my studio. I’ll walk past it and think: that corner could be softer or that blue could be a little warmer. It’s not about indecision. It’s about relationship.

Painting is a process—not just a product. And like any process, it teaches, stretches, and invites me back into it. That’s what keeps it alive.

Process Over Perfection

As an impressionist oil painter, I work in layers—building motion, light, and emotion into the piece over time. But “finished” isn’t a technical milestone. It’s a moment when the painting stops asking something of me.

“There’s always a temptation to perfect. But sometimes, the best thing I can do is step away.”

Sometimes that moment comes quickly. Other times, it arrives quietly, after weeks of looking. Pieces like “Quietude” or “A Pond View” taught me to stop just before I might have gone too far. That restraint often reveals more than another layer ever could.

The Tension Between Enough and More

There’s a delicate line between refining and overworking. When the composition holds, the color feels right, and the light has its place—I try to let go. That’s when the painting becomes its own thing, rather than something I’m still shaping.

In some cases, I’ve reopened a painting even after it was “done.” But usually, I know I’m finished when I feel peaceful in front of it—not excited, not agitated. Just… still.

That moment is hard to describe, but it’s always clear when it arrives.

What It Means for Commissions

When working with collectors on commissioned oil paintings, I keep them involved in the process—but not overwhelmed by it. I’ll send process updates and listen closely to their reactions, especially when the painting is nearly there.

Together, we decide when it’s ready to live in their space. And if something feels off even after it’s delivered? I’m not above tweaking it again. That’s part of the trust.

Paintings That Knew When to Stop

• “Wide Awake” – Finished quickly and confidently—any more would’ve dulled its energy
• “Lone Lily Blossom” – A single bloom, left open and uncorrected
• “Clairvoyance” – A diptych that landed in balance after a final wash of light
• “Harmony” – Built slowly, but ended with a single last stroke that pulled everything together

Final Thought: Finished Is a Feeling

I don’t finish paintings. They finish themselves—when the conversation is complete, when the light is right, when the mood is intact. If I can stand in front of a piece and it no longer asks for more, I let it be.

That’s the feeling I try to paint toward every time.