Surface, Silence, and the Space Between

Painting taught me that silence is not empty — it’s alive. In the spaces between gestures, between colors that almost touch, meaning lingers, asking us to stay a little longer.

On the Court, 4ft x 4ft, Playful Abstraction, 2024

In the early days of my practice, I was preoccupied with the act of filling — filling space, filling canvas, filling meaning. There was an urgency to cover every inch, to make sure no part felt unfinished or empty. But over time, I’ve come to understand that some of the most potent moments in painting happen not in what is added, but in what is withheld.

The surfaces I’m drawn to now are quieter, layered with pauses and held breaths. I’ve learned to see the canvas not as a void to conquer, but as a space to listen to. In the gaps between gestures, in the tension where forms resist touching, something ineffable happens. The space becomes charged, alive, vibrating with the possibility of what could have been said but wasn’t. It’s within these spaces that the viewer is invited to complete the conversation themselves — to project, to imagine, to feel.

I’ve come to believe that silence in painting isn’t passive; it’s deeply active. It holds the weight of restraint, the courage to trust that less can indeed be more. These spaces between things — between a brushstroke and the raw canvas, between colors that almost collide but don’t — are where ambiguity thrives, where the mind lingers a little longer. They allow the work to breathe, and they invite the viewer to breathe with it.

In Surface, Silence, and the Space Between, I reflect on how this shift in my process has changed not only my work but how I see the world around me. I notice the pauses between conversations, the spaces between trees, the negative spaces that give form to what we often think of as “something.” Art, like life, isn’t only about what’s present. It’s also about what’s absent — and the spaces that hold the unseen.

You can view the full Playful Abstraction Collection here.