Being Still
The notion of “Being Still” in relation to painting is to introduce a paradox, embodying both action and the absence of action, that lies at the heart of creativity. On the surface, stillness suggests a cessation of movement or thought, an apparent inactivity.
Yet, in the act of painting, being still is far from passive; it is what allows an active engagement, an attunement to the present moment where perception, intuition, and creative decision-making are dynamically unfolding.
In this way, “Being Still” is not an absence of doing but a heightened still point of being — alive, receptive, and charged with potential, an emptiness that allows intuitive responses to flourish and emerge.
Within the creative process, stillness is not the lack of movement but the clarity of presence. The painter can enter a state of flow, where seeing, intuiting, assessing, erasing, canceling, and adding all occur in a kind of dance.
This interplay between stillness and movement is essential, as it allows the artist to remain open to the unexpected, to respond rather than impose, and to engage with the work as a living process.
The artist’s hand moves, yet within the act of painting, when it goes well, there can be a stillness of deep attention, a suspension of external distractions, and a complete immersion in the unfolding moment.
When the artist finally declares the work finished, an apparent stillness settles. The painting itself no longer changes; its brushstrokes, forms, and
colours are set, finally fixed within time.
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Yet, paradoxically, this stillness is also the beginning of a new movement — one that occurs not on the canvas but in the realm of perception.
The completed work takes on a new vitality as it enters into a relationship with the viewer. It is no longer only the artist’s engagement that animates it, but the viewer’s gaze, thoughts, and emotions that infuse it with new life.
The introduction of the viewer marks a crucial shift in the artwork’s existence. For the artist, the work may have reached a point of resolution, yet its meaning is far from fixed. Instead, it is continually reinterpreted and reshaped by those who encounter it.
Each viewer brings a unique perspective, informed by their personal history, cultural background, education, mood and psychological framework. This subjective interaction turns the painting into a dynamic entity, one that is never wholly static, but constantly reanimated through perception and interpretation.
The presence of the anonymous viewer is particularly significant. If the viewer is to fully read the artwork they are required to see from a still place within, to be open to the work.
Unlike those who may know the artist personally, a stranger will approach the work without preconceptions shaped by familiarity or biography,
as well as carrying a whole world of their own ideas, assumptions and preconceptions.
This anonymity allows for a potential engagement that is purely between the viewer and the painting itself, unmediated by personal relationships.
In this way, the act of viewing becomes an essential element of the artistic process, extending beyond the artist’s intention into an open-ended dialogue between the work and the world.
Thus, the paradox of “Being Still” in painting is one of perpetual movement facilitated by a hidden quietude. The stillness of the finished painting is not the end but the beginning of its life as an artwork, as it enters into the shifting, unpredictable terrain of human perception.
Just as the act of painting is a negotiation between stillness and movement, presence and absence, completion and possibility, so too is the life of the painting itself — a silent object that speaks endlessly to those who encounter it, who also bring a world of interpretation to the act of viewing.
