How do you know when a Painting is Finished

Art is a huge part of helping me to relax; focus on one thing, slow down, enjoy the quality of what I'm doing. I create art because I enjoy it; I enjoy the process of creation; the blank canvas, the potential and the evolution. I escape life for a while, it's nice.

I have to finish my painting. I have to, at some point, come to a decision about the completion, and the success of that completion. I find this hard. At best discomforting, at worst throw-it-all-in-the-bin stressful.

A well-executed composition is still key for me, but the right balance between technical and creative is challenging. What’s a great painting and what is just a mess? Yes it's in the eye of the beholder, but as the artist and ultimately, the judge of what I’m proud to call one of my paintings, this a dilemma for me. At school I used to copy something. When it resembled the thing I was copying, I stopped. Easy. But now, it’s insufficient.

I put down my paintbrush and step back. Fear grips me, is it finished? Will people look at my painting and think that it is inadequate, crude, unworthy? Or worse, have I overdone it and it's now in the reaIm of ordinary. I often feel like I’m stuck in a paradox between freedom of expression, movement and experimentation versus representing what I see in the landscape I’m painting.

Yes, I'm still frowning at my painting; I have elements which I absolutely love, but then there are other elements which I’m not sure about. They aren't bad but are they good? Do they work? I have nothing to check against. The feeling of inadequacy from having a painting which doesn’t look accomplished is scary. Our insecure artistic ego mind undermines us every chance it gets. It doesn’t believe in what it doesn’t know. It likes established data, evidence. This painting is 100% new to me. I don't have the data.

The first thing I do when I become stuck like this is to slow down. I need breathing space. I take a photo of the painting, outside when possible, to see it in good light. I put that on my phone and computer so I can look at it fresh. I affectionately call this the 'faffing’ stage. An attempt to lighten the mood and reinforce that it's ok to take my time now.

When looking at the photo of the painting, I'm giving myself distance from the painting which the confines of the size of a room doesn't allow. The photo also gives me emotional distance which I don't get when the brushstrokes are looking at me. With this physical and emotional distance I ask myself; does it make sense? Do I have any compositional or perspective errors? Will the viewer inherently recognise and interpret what they are looking at without being unintentionally distracted?

Back in front of the painting I ask myself; how the mark-making has translated into the photo. Am I happy with that translation, because let's be honest, most people will only ever see this painting online. I'm also keen that a painting should still hold its own when you do look close up. I want my brushstrokes and mark-making to interest and intrigue the viewer.

This stage of looking and looking at the painting can be frustrating. I try to think of it as a problem-solving exercise rather than a creative block. It feels more manageable that way. It might be that I don't make any changes but this is the stage where I collect that data to gain confidence in what I've done. Disciplining myself to take photos and keep checking along the way.

Finally, I do the scroll test. I ask myself; would I pause and look at this painting if I saw it while scrolling absent-mindedly through instagram in front of the TV? Not every painting can be a showstopper but what grabs the eye? If the answer is 'nothing’ then I need to allow the painting more breathing space. The worst thing I can do is push it to completion and be unhappy with it.

Tolerate a little anxiety to discover something new, but allow yourself time to bond with your painting and know it's finished.

They say that a picture is worth a thousand words.