All creativity starts with structure

Downtown Rockport, 14X18, oil on archival canvasboard, for more details click on the image.

On Monday, I reviewed outtakes from Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters, a go-at-your-own-pace painting class for people just starting with oil paint. I was looking for an explanation of the fat-over-lean concept for my current Zoom classes and I figured the easiest solution was to review what I’ve already said on the subject. I came away with two thoughts:

I liked my hair better when it was longer.

OK, given that my hair was wet in the left-hand photo, I still regret cutting it off.

More importantly, watching those videos reminded me of just how hard I worked to master talking to a camera. I can now reel off a short video without breaking a sweat. That wasn’t true when I started.

All creativity starts with structure

Painting and making videos feel like two very different disciplines. At their core, however, they demand the same habits of mind. That’s true of most creative disciplines. I recently showed some students a dress I designed and sewed. “Did you do sculpture in the past?” one asked. Not much, but they demand many of the same skills.

Creativity rests on structure. That’s as much about time management as anything. When we were making the videos, my daughter Laura and I laid out daily work paths. When I’m painting, I lay out a similar map.

An instructional video depends on clear sequencing: what comes first, what can wait, and how each step leads logically to the next. That’s true of painting too. In both cases, you’re guiding a viewer through complexity without letting them feel lost.

Heavy Weather (Ketch Angelique), 24X36, oil on canvas, framed, for more information, click on the image.

Ruthless editing

Laura and I recorded hundreds of hours of video for Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters. I draw relentlessly before I start a painting, and sometimes scrap projects that are going nowhere. If it doesn’t serve the purpose, it has to go—no matter how much time I’ve invested in it.

When we paint, we (hopefully) reduce the chaos of the visible world into shapes, values and color relationships. When I teach painting, I have to distill complicated ideas into digestible pieces. That’s why I ask my students frequently, “does that track?”

Pacing, timing and rhythm

Paintings develop in layers, each stroke building on the last. Move too fast and you mess up; move too slowly, and you lose momentum. Instructional videos demand that same balance. Linger too long on a point and your audience drifts; rush it and they’re confused. I got better at that over time.

The human touch

I haven’t figured out yet how to turn off Gemini’s stupid distillations of my emails. It can’t help being dumb; it’s a machine. Real art and real teaching require humanity and empathy. The painter must anticipate how a viewer will respond.  A teacher must anticipate where a student will stumble. The creator must constantly step outside himself.

Home Port, oil on canvas. 18X24. For more information, click on the image.

Imperfection is not failure

Nothing we do in this world is perfect. Furthermore, nothing ever gets learned by just watching videos or reading. Until you pick up the tools, nothing sticks (which is why there are exercises in Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters).

It’s easier to sit on the couch reading or watching videos about art than making art, because there’s risk in trying. As long as we only imagine ourselves as creators we don’t have to face our inevitable screwups. Yes, our early efforts are clumsy, but that’s not failure; it’s the process.

If you want to study with me

Experienced painters can take my Zoom class Fresh Eyes (Critique), a short, three-week session on Tuesday evenings in April.

Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *