There’s something interesting that happens when you spend enough time working in one visual language; it shows up in places you didn’t intend.
That’s exactly what happened with my latest painting, “On the verge”.
Going into this painting, my focus was process, form, and mood. I wanted to push my understanding of oil painting, specifically working through a fat-over-lean approach. It forced me to slow down in ways I’m not naturally inclined to do. I tend to want to jump ahead, to resolve things too quickly, especially when it comes to highlights and finishing details.
That showed up almost immediately in the mane. I caught myself reaching for lighter, more opaque paint colors too early, trying to define something that hadn’t fully developed yet. It led to a lot of reworking, second-guessing, and moments where I had to step back and reset.
But somewhere in that process, something unexpected started to emerge.
As the layers built up, I began to notice a certain quality in the lines and shapes. The way the light cut across the form, the sharp transitions, the sense of movement held just before release; it all started to feel familiar in a different way.
It felt like comics.
Not in an obvious or literal sense, but in the underlying structure. The emphasis on form. The rhythm of light and shadow guiding the eye. The suggestion of motion, even in a still image. That feeling of a moment frozen right before action explodes forward.
That thinking has been part of my visual process for a long time, and here it was, showing up on its own in this new venture.
I didn’t plan for it. I didn’t try to force it. It just surfaced as I worked through the painting honestly, responding to what was in front of me.
That realization shifted how I saw the piece.
What started as a technical exercise became something more integrated. A merging of influences I hadn’t fully connected before. The discipline of oil painting layered with the energy and clarity of my comic-inspired past.
The title “On the Verge” came out of that moment just before something big happens.
There’s a tension in the piece that I kept coming back to. The horse isn’t in full motion yet, but it’s about to be. There’s a build-up of energy, a sense that the next moment will break open into something powerful and uncontrollable.
In a way, that mirrors the process itself.
Painting like this is a constant balance between control and letting go. Between structure and instinct. Between what you know and what reveals itself if you’re patient enough to let it happen.
This piece reminded me that not everything needs to be planned to be meaningful. Sometimes the most interesting parts of your work are the ones that come through without permission.
