September 9, 2026

Why I'm Not Interested in Painting the Same Thing Twice

When something works, the obvious thing to do is repeat it. That's exactly what I don't want to do.

Every artist eventually hears some version of the same advice. "You should make more like that." I understand why. A painting gets attention. Someone connects with it. Maybe it sells quickly. From a business perspective, creating another version makes perfect sense.

But it's never been what interests me. Because if I already know exactly where a painting is going before I begin, I've lost the part of painting I enjoy most. Discovery.

I Want the Blank Canvas to Be Uncomfortable

When I begin a new painting, I don't want it to feel like a production order. I want there to be questions. What happens if I push the texture further? What if I remove more than I add? What happens when fiberglass resin, acrylic, plaster or industrial chemicals react differently than I expected?

Sometimes the answer works. Sometimes it doesn't. That's the point. My studio is probably closer to a laboratory than a place where I execute predetermined ideas. The materials don't always cooperate, and I've learned not to expect them to. Some of my favorite results have come from reactions I never intended.

Failure Has to Be Possible

Experimentation isn't very meaningful if you already know it's going to work. I've scraped away sections I loved. I've covered areas other people thought were finished. I've had paintings sit in the studio for days because I knew something wasn't right but didn't yet know what to do about it.

That can be frustrating. But repeating something simply because it worked before would be worse. Creativity isn't about protecting yesterday's good idea. It's remaining curious enough to look for tomorrow's.

Original Means More Than One-of-One

To me, an original painting isn't original simply because only one exists. It should also come from a moment that can't be repeated. A particular day. A decision. An unexpected reaction. A mistake that became something better. Those things become part of the work. That's why I don't want to remake a painting after it's finished—even when someone asks me to. I can use the same materials. I can work at the same scale. But I don't want to recreate the same moment.

I'd rather find the next one.

The Next Painting Should Surprise Me Too

I want my work to be recognizable as mine without becoming predictable. There's a difference. Style can evolve while still carrying the same point of view. A formula simply repeats what has already succeeded. I'm much more interested in the first. When I finish a painting, I rarely think: How can I make another one like this? I'm thinking: What haven't I tried yet?

That's the question that keeps me walking back into the studio. Every finished painting closes one conversation. The blank canvas starts another.

And I still don't know where it's going. That's exactly how I want it.