The Journey Behind Finding Sanctuary

Sometimes a painting needs to find its own way. “Finding Sanctuary” is a piece that evolved through exploration, false starts, and ultimately, a willingness to begin again when something wasn’t quite right.

When a Painting Says ‘Not Yet’

I began with an unconventional foundation: a textured surface of sand, gravel, and acrylic paint, with four handmade clay fish embedded into the canvas. I worked an abstract composition over the top, but something felt off. The structure simply wasn’t there, and I knew it wasn’t working. Rather than push through, I made the decision to pause and rethink.

This is one of those moments during the development of a painting, where patience becomes as important as technique. I applied texture paste over the fish to soften their presence, transforming them from obvious features into subtle whispers beneath the surface. Then I approached it with fresh eyes and a clearer vision.

Building the Composition

I wanted to create a piece that captured the duality of the sea: the peaceful refuge of calm waters and open sky contrasted with the wild, exhilarating energy of turbulent surf.

As someone who paddles kayaks on whitewater rivers and the sea, I’ve experienced that unique intersection of joy and awareness when you’re surrounded by nature’s raw power. That feeling became the emotional core of this work.

I mixed ultramarine with permanent alizarin crimson to create a rich, deep purplish-blue. Using a large four-inch brush, I roughly blocked in the darker areas where the drama would unfold. Small touches of deep turquoise, more ultramarine, cadmium yellow pale hue, and permanent alizarin crimson were dotted onto the lighter areas before I loaded another four-inch brush with titanium white and swept it across the background, blending those dots of colour into something soft and ethereal.

Bringing the Texture to Life

Once the initial layers were down, I began coaxing the texture to reveal itself. With a two-inch brush loaded with white, yellow, and hints of blue, I worked horizontally across the lighter areas, lifting the surface and bringing dimension to the calm zones. The contrast between the peaceful sky and the energetic sea was beginning to establish itself.

Then came the satisfying work of diving into those darker areas with bolder, stronger colours. I used two-inch brushes and palette knives to build layers, letting the texture guide my hand. The painting was coming together, above, the sky was developing and below, the oceans with four hidden fish. Between them, the violent beauty of sea whipped into the air during a storm.

The Finishing Touches

I knew the painting needed something precious to honour the beauty and fragility of our seas. I applied touches of artificial gold leaf to the tips of the waves, keeping it minimal but meaningful. Our seas are precious, fragile, vital, and irreplaceable. The gleaming gold felt like the right way to acknowledge their worth.

After letting the painting rest, I applied a coat of Liquitex high gloss varnish, sealing and protecting the work whilst enhancing the depth of colour.

The Secret Within

Those four fish remain hidden in the painting, visible only when the light catches them just right. Under flat lighting, they virtually disappear. With side lighting, they hint at their presence, a secret ecosystem beneath the waves. It’s a reminder that there’s always more than what we see on the surface, both in art and in nature.

What I See Now

“Finding Sanctuary” became a painting about refuge and power coexisting. The lighter areas offer the eye a place to rest, a moment of calm in the composition. The darker areas pulse with life, colour, and movement, demanding attention and energy. Together, they create balance.

The Completed Work

“Finding Sanctuary” is a 36 × 24 inch mixed-media painting on stretched canvas, incorporating acrylic paint, texture paste, artificial gold leaf, air-drying clay, sand, and gravel. It’s signed, varnished, and ready to hang.

But what it means to you might be entirely different from what I’ve described. That’s the beauty of abstract work. I’d love to know what you see when you look at it. Do you find the hidden fish? Does it remind you of somewhere you’ve been or somewhere you’d like to go? Does it offer you a moment of sanctuary?

Art, like the sea, reveals different things depending on when and how you look at it.