I have a vivid memory of my early watercolor classes. As we busily worked on our pieces, our teacher, peeking from behind, said suggestively, “Know when to stop! Don’t ruin it…” We all felt nervous, guessing if it is “me” she was insinuating. Knowing when to stop becomes a thing always rings in the back of my mind when I am painting in watercolors. Understandably, it is not easy to remove the paints when they are on paper. Even when I moved to acrylic and oil, in theory you can keep piling paints on, I still hear that question being asked in classes and workshops. The obvious answer is you should stop when a piece works, but do you always know that? Then let’s say, you know it doesn’t work yet, should you keep trying or move on to the next one?

In one of the East Oaks’ early livestream, Michael Klein answered both parts of the question. I am paraphrasing here: I always know what kind of result I want to achieve and there’s no such a thing as overworking a piece. If you think a piece is overworked, it probably means you haven’t worked enough yet. You only stop when a painting works, and it is better to make the current one works before moving on to the next piece. If you haven’t solved the problem with the current piece, how could you make the next one better? 

Mr. Klein’s remarks shook me, but it also makes perfect sense. The concept that there was a moment in the past that the painting was perfect is faulty. If you don’t know where to end, should you even start? If you do know, what made you keep working on it in the first place? 

Klein’s answer also reminds me what Jeff Watts repeated in some of his demo videos, that you should paint each painting as if this is the one by which the world would judge you. Dale Zinkowski, whose tutorial I am following nowadays, echoed something similar. In a way, this is inline with the concept of “holding yourself responsible” that we discussed previously. We learn from making and correcting our own mistakes. 

So, to know when to stop, before starting each painting, sort out your goal as clear as possible in terms of the mood and aesthetics you want to achieve. Traditionally, you do that with thumbnails or draft paintings. Nowadays you can employ Photoshop or ProCreate in the design and drafting process. You can modify the digital version till it looks like the painting you want before you start, judge the progress against it, and keep working on it until you reach the goal. When not sure, put the painting aside and look at it from time to time. I used to do that for days or weeks, but according to the talented and prolific Scott Burdock, he sometimes leave a piece open-ended for years. You don’t need to decide if a painting is done on spot. Give it time, and then give it more time. (Unless you are working on something with a deadline, then the deadline calls for you.)

This process is more challenging for a watercolorist. Watercolor paper, however high quality, only takes so much beating. The innovative artist Niel Murphy found a way to expand the design process to the entire art making process. He started with a watercolor painting, scan it into Photoshop to keep working on it digitally, then print it out and paint more on top of that. This process is very expandable – you can work on the piece forever – at least in theory. 

A logistic problem rises. If every painting has the potential to be worked into something, we should only work with the best materials we could afford at any time, right? What if? This is the advice many artist give. Do not waste your time on poor materials. It is very against my stingy nature, but I find using better materials help to hold myself responsible. I am less likely to give a half-hearted effort or abandon a piece by telling myself it is just a practice. I just need to find more affordable but good materials. MDF or aluminum board, limited palette, there are some options. 

Of course in the process of learning and practicing, not every initiative marches toward a gallery.    I can’t possibly make everything work as it intended to be, but there are ways to keep options open. I used to throw out or paint over the old paintings. I still do, but I remember to keep a digital copy. In the days that I am too languid to pick up a brush, but feel obligated to do something art related, I turn the into digital patterns.

Any piece of art has the potential to morph into longevity. 

Here are some of the patterns I made from old art pieces (shown first):