Landscape Painting Process: Chaos, Lines, and Instinct

A Day in the Life of My Painting Process

Samples of my small, semi abstract landscapes

I had gotten a few emails about my landscape art at the California Nature Art Museum in Solvang, CA, on exhibition last year. Some folks asked about my process: tools, materials, mindset, all of it. I’m not sure which part they care about most, but I’ll go with what matters to me.

Most of my landscapes start plein air. I grab my easel, canvas, and some paint, head out to a quiet spot, and set up camp. No studio walls. Just me, the outdoors, and maybe a few bugs. I don’t scout for the “perfect” view. I just let the shapes and lines come to me. Not the tree or sky, but those raw outlines that separate the chaos from the calm.

Starting with Lines, Ending with… Who Knows

Semi-abstract landscape approximately 6"  x 12” oil on treated canvas

Once I have scoped out some lines, I start painting them. Messy, bold, unpredictable. I don’t sit there copying the scenery like a photograph. It’s all about rhythm, one line leads to another. Filling in the blanks happens on instinct. I don’t pre-mix colors. I grab a tube, pick a spot on the canvas, and just start. Maybe it works. Maybe it doesn’t. The canvas decides.

It’s all a back-and-forth process. Color goes down. I smear it, layer it, and push it around until it feels like it belongs. There’s no roadmap. It is all gut instinct and a bit of luck. How do I know it’s done? When I just can’t bring myself to put another drop of paint on it. That’s my “stop” signal.

It’s Not About the Location

I paint everywhere: yards, beaches, foothills, fields. The spot does not matter because the process stays the same. I look for the outlines, find a rhythm, and let the colors take over. But here is the thing that gets me, I notice myself circling back to the same shapes and themes. It’s like my brain is on a loop. The challenge is to break out of that, keep it fresh.

A Painting Day in Action

When I’m done with one piece, I grab another canvas and start again. It isrepetitive, but also freeing. Each canvas is a blank slate, and every painting is its own experiment. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Either way, I get up the next day and do it again.