Although my painting style is often gestural—working quickly in the moment, responding intuitively to color and form—a tremendous amount of preparation happens long before my brush touches a surface. Developing a new body of work isn’t just about painting; it’s about gathering, observing, experimenting, and constructing a framework for my artistic process that allows the final pieces to emerge organically.
In May, I will have a new series of work displayed along a wooded path, and I’ve been thinking deeply about color, place, and the structure of the story these paintings will tell. This collection will have its own internal rhythm—a conversation between colors, materials, and the environment where it will first be seen.
Location Scouting: Understanding the Context
I always begin a new series by considering a place. What is the surrounding landscape like? What colors are or will be present in that space? How will the compositions I create interact with their environment when they are finally displayed here? This isn’t just about making sure the work "fits" in a location; it’s about creating a dynamic conversation between the paintings and the place.
And because I'm thinking months ahead, this requires a fair amount of imagination—and a willingness to let go of my own control. I have no idea what the weather will be like or exactly what the day of exhibition will bring. The light will be different, the leaves at various stages of their cycle. These images will have to hold their own in that uncertainty, becoming part of the changing landscape rather than a fixed response to it.
Color Research: Finding the Palette
Once I have a sense of the context, I start focusing on color. This is always a deep dive, an exploration of the relationships between pigments, materials, and meaning.
Some of this comes from my own experimentation. What interactions feel fresh, surprising, or deeply resonant? What happens when a color I’ve foraged in one season is placed against a color from another? I’ll start with what is present in the immediate environment, but I’m also open to incorporating colors from different seasons and locations if they feel right for a particular composition.
Gathering Inspiration: Moments and Memory
My paintings don’t just emerge from abstract ideas—they are often rooted in specific moments in time, fleeting glimpses of movement, color, or light. As I prepare, I collect photographs of places and moments that resonate with me. I am constantly taking photos, capturing textures, patterns, and contrasts to jog my memory in the future. I sit with these memories.
These fragments don’t always translate directly into paintings, but they inform the process in ways that feel essential. Sometimes I’ll look at a collection of images for weeks, letting them sink into my subconscious. And then later, in the middle of painting, something from those images will emerge—a color combination I hadn’t consciously planned, a shape that feels familiar but unexpected. The connection is always there, even if it takes time to reveal itself.
Planning Materials and Sizes
Each piece in this series will be created in either oil on canvas or watercolor on paper, and the choice between the two is never arbitrary. Each material requires a different kind of preparation, and each carries its own weight in the final composition.
With watercolor on paper, most of the work comes after the painting is complete—matting, framing, making sure the piece is displayed in a way that honors its delicacy. Watercolor allows for spontaneous mark-making, but it also requires careful handling. The colors can shift dramatically depending on how they interact with the paper and the binder, so every decision matters.
Oil on canvas is the opposite. Here, the work happens upfront—cutting, priming, stretching, preparing the surface before the first stroke of paint is applied. Oil paint has a slow drying time, allowing for layers and depth, but it also requires patience. It’s about building something, creating a surface that can hold complexity.
Some colors and textures demand the fluidity of watercolor. Others need the richness and weight of oil. Deciding which belongs where is part of the process.
Studies for Larger Work
Even for paintings that appear effortless, there is always a foundation of smaller studies and experiments beneath them. I make many color swatches, testing different pigments and how they interact. I make notes on how each swatch was created. I make swatches of natural pigments, then work to create combinations of modern pigments that perfectly match these swatches. The interplay between ephemeral natural colors and the more reliable colors of modern artist's materials is part of what I find so exciting about painting with both.
The Natural Rhythm of Creation Mimic's the Artistic Process
All of this preparation—gathering materials, planning compositions, stretching canvases, testing pigments—mirrors the slow, deliberate growth of the natural world in winter. On the surface, everything may seem still, but beneath that stillness, things are shifting, preparing, waiting for the right moment.
As the days lengthen, my pace of visible output will increase, just as the landscape begins to change. The work I am preparing now will soon come to life.
-Mira
Artist, Growing In Process
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