From Noticing to Abstract Painting

So I got up the other day, walked down the hallway… and this happened…This being the photo up above. The one with the knock-your-socks-off light crashing into a painting hanging out in a dark hallway, minding its own business.

Oh. My.

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Nothing Routine About This Light

At the risk of sounding overly dramatic (which I am, BTW), IT WAS MAGIC! A freakin’ miracle gift from the rising sun.

OK, so maybe that’s a bit over the top but the Muse didn’t think so. Not when she came out of nowhere, smacked me upside the head and said:

We’re not walking past this!!!

Knowing that light had maybe a minute—max—before it shifted and moved on with its day, and knowing that my Muse would never let me hear the end of it if I missed the shot, I grabbed my phone and took a pic.

Then I posted it to my FB art page with the caption: Noticing Morning Light

I do this every couple of days. Post a photo of something that catches my eye.

It’s my noticing practice. The way I see the world. The way this painter brain of mine works.

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I’ve got a whole camera roll full of these noticings/maybe someday inspirations. Hundreds. Probably thousands.

Moments that made me pause just long enough to think, huh… there’s something there.

Most of them never turn into anything. They’ve got potential… but they don’t stick.

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This Light Was Different.

This one stuck.

This one followed me around all day like a middle school crush.

Popped into my head when I was doing other things. Made my heart do that ridiculous little pitter-patter thing just thinking about it.

Which, of course, made me think about it more.

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That’s the Moment

And then I felt it.

That’s when I knew. This one’s a painting.

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Because abstract painting isn’t about what I see.

It’s about how I react to what I see.

The pull. The tension.That hit of something that doesn’t quite resolve.

That’s the work.

This is how my abstract paintings begin—by noticing something small and not letting it go.

I talk more about that—and how it drives my abstract paintings here (scroll down for the videos).

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So I’m following it.

No studio yet, so this one’s going digital. Same instincts, different tools.

It might stand on its own.

Or it might be a study, the beginning of a much larger oil painting that takes this fleeting moment and stretches it out, deepens it, pushes it until it stops being quiet.

We’ll see.

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That light is long gone now. Happened in minutes and then, just like that, it was gone.

But the feeling?

Still here.

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This one wouldn’t let me go. So I’m not letting it go either. Let’s see what it becomes.

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This Week’s Creative Prompt

Find a moment of contrast.

Light against dark. Warm against cool. Smooth against rough. Something that shouldn’t work together—but does.

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Capture it and turn it into something.

• Take the photo
• Do a quick sketch
• Pull the colors into a digital piece
• Write it out
• Build it in whatever way you work

I don’t care if it’s rough. I don’t care if it’s weird. Just don’t leave it as a “nice moment.”

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Give it 20 minutes. That’s it. Set a timer. Make something. Stop.

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Because this?

This is where the work actually starts.

Not in your head. Not someday.

Right there.

Til next week–