Today, I spent time working on the backgrounds for my View from Above series.
No main subjects yet. No focal point to anchor the eye. Just layers, slowly built up, one over another.
It is a long and quiet process.
At times, it almost feels like nothing is happening. Each layer is subtle, barely there. A soft shift in tone, a gentle wash of colour, a whisper rather than a statement.
But I know this matters.
I am trying to create something light, floaty, almost translucent. Like multiple layers of veils drifting over one another. Something you don’t just see, but feel.
And that kind of effect cannot be rushed.
It asks for patience.
It asks for restraint.
It asks me to trust the process, even when the results are not immediately visible.
As I worked, I found myself slowing down. Letting go of the need to finish quickly. Allowing each layer to settle before adding the next.
There is a quiet beauty in this stage.
No pressure to impress.
No urgency to complete.
Just the act of building, gently and intentionally.
I realise now that this is where the soul of the painting begins. Beneath everything that will come later, these layers will hold the depth, the softness, the atmosphere.
I’m grateful for this slower pace.
Grateful for the patience this process is teaching me.
Grateful for the trust I am learning to place in what is not yet visible.
And maybe this is true beyond painting.
The most meaningful things are often built in layers we cannot immediately see.
Soft, quiet, and essential.
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