My Meandering, Many-Layered Art Process

Over the last several months, I’ve had the opportunity to share many behind-the-scenes secrets with people who’ve come to openings, festivals, and other events. I get questions all the time about where I get my ideas, how I put my work together, and what comes first—the collage or the painting.

And you know what? I’ve learned so much more about my why from talking about my how. So, I thought I’d revisit this topic and compile this year’s reflections into an article about my process—the how, but most importantly, the why.

Beginnings

The beginnings of my work usually aren’t planned. They come about through everyday experiences—walking the dog, shuttling kids, hiking with my family, camping, or simply wandering the neighborhood. As I move through the world, my mind and body are often filled with internal dialogue and narrative. Sometimes it’s about my family; other times, my business or my church.

While my thoughts tumble around, I’m observing the world around me, and often something will strike me as beautiful and arrest my attention. I’ll take out my phone and snap a few photos to mull over later. Usually, those photos sit unattended for quite some time before I’m ready to create from them. Often, I don’t even know why I was drawn to a particular scene until much later—after more experiences and interactions with God, friends, and the world.

I’m a chronic overthinker… can you tell?

The Messy Middle

This is where the chaos begins! Once I decide to start a painting—whether prompted by inspiration or a deadline (ha!)—I start sketching designs and compositions as thumbnails in the margins of my printed photo reference. I also jot down words, verses, songs, emotions, colors, or patterns that come to mind. These notes guide me through the collage-hunting process.

I then spend hours digging through my collection of collage materials, laying out pieces that might make a good background or foundation for the “story” I want to tell.

What story, you ask? Often, I have no idea. Some authors begin with a structured outline, while others let the narrative take on a life of its own. My collage storytelling is definitely the latter. I collect, cut, and layer, not entirely sure what the pieces are saying to each other—yet. I simply follow the faint path I can see and keep going until it feels complete. Even then, I might not fully understand what I’m trying to say, but the message begins to take shape.

Then comes the hardest part: the painting. There’s a certain kind of surrender—a small death—that happens when I begin to paint over the collage I just built. It often surprises people that I’d cover so much work, but it’s part of the process, one I’ve learned to respect. It’s like coming to terms with your quirks: they might make things harder sometimes, but they’re part of who you are, and removing them would erase your wholeness.

While painting, I pay close attention to how the collage interacts with the landscape. It’s thrilling and fun—but also frustrating when the balance doesn’t come easily. I break things down into simple shapes and values, building up the whole painting at once rather than finishing one section at a time. This helps maintain harmony between light and dark, detail and suggestion.

At this point, I’m pacing back and forth between the back of my studio and the easel, constantly checking whether my moves are helping the piece move forward. The process is both a wrestling match and a roller coaster. I swing from love to hate in the span of a few brushstrokes. But eventually, I start to see the light at the end of the tunnel—when the journey is nearing completion.

Completing the Circular Journey

There’s a moment with each painting when I feel the battle begin to resolve. Sometimes, after staring at a problem area for days, I finally see the next step—and then the next. Other times, it surprises me: I’ll walk to the back of the studio, glance at the work, and realize I’m done.

People often ask how I know when a piece is finished. The answer isn’t simple. I ask myself:

• Have I achieved a value balance I like?

• Are the colors working together?

• Is there a clear pathway through the painting?

• Does the balance between collage and paint invite curiosity and exploration?

• How is the sense of light?

• Have I shared the message this scene was meant to reveal?

And of course, there are always deadlines…

The Why of My Work

As I’ve shared before, I work this way for my own benefit—to give form to the internal dialogues and narratives that need a place to be seen and heard. But I’ve also uncovered a few deeper reasons for why I create the way I do.

Truth Is Unfolding

I’ve been learning about ancient Hebraic thought and how it differs from the Greek traditions we often use in the West. In Hebraic thought, truth is absolute, yes—but it’s also unfolding. It’s complex and dynamic, not static or unchanging. I see this reflected in my work. The layers speak different ideas at different times. As I spend more time with a piece, it reveals more of what it’s trying to say. As I change, the work changes too. The truths within it continue to unfold.

Discovery as Deeper Learning

This year, I’ve been exploring new approaches to learning. Instead of relying on lectures and bullet points—which are efficient but shallow—I’ve begun engaging in more conversational, back-and-forth exploration. It’s less Q & A and more Q & Q. It takes much longer and can seem inefficient in a culture that prizes speed and quantity, but if our goal is transformation, then this slower, deeper method has something vital to offer.

We Can Never Fully Hide

Even if we become experts at masking our true selves in public—or even among those closest to us—we can never truly hide. God sees all our layers, and so do we. The tension I explore between collage and paint mirrors that tug-of-war between wanting to be known and loved, and the simultaneous desire to retreat into the safety of the shadows.

So there you have it. My how and my why. What stood out to you? Have you uncovered your "why? " Does your "how" play a part?