Sometimes the paintings that seem the most complicated aren’t actually the hardest ones to paint.
That’s something I didn’t really understand until I painted Midnight Pedaler.
When I decided to paint a skeleton riding a penny-farthing through a cornfield, I knew I was giving myself a challenge. There was a lot happening in a very small space: a skeleton, an old-fashioned bicycle, rows of dried corn, fence posts, a dirt path, a full moon, a top hat and a scarf, all on a 5 x 7 piece of watercolor paper.
It felt complicated. And honestly, I expected it to be difficult.
What surprised me was how much I enjoyed painting it.
Starting with the scene
I began with the background, building the dark sky, moon, cornfield, fence and path before adding the rider.
The corn was one of the first clues that this kind of painting might actually suit me better than I thought. There are dozens of stalks in the finished piece, but none of them needed to be perfect. I could build them with loose strokes, different shades of brown, gold and cream, and let the layers create the impression of a field.
A crooked stalk didn’t ruin anything. An irregular brushstroke often made the field look more natural.
That’s very different from painting something simple that depends on clean edges, symmetry or exact proportions. I’ve painted much less complicated subjects that frustrated me far more because there was nowhere for an imperfect line to hide.
Complicated doesn’t always mean difficult
Once the background was established, I sketched in the skeleton and bicycle.
Looking at that stage now, it seems a little ridiculous that this was only a 5 x 7 painting.
But I didn’t have to paint all of it at once.
I worked through it in sections. The hat. The scarf. The skull. The rib cage. The bicycle frame. The wheels. I could concentrate on one small problem at a time instead of thinking about everything that still needed to happen.
And I didn’t need every part of the painting to have the same level of detail.
The skeleton and bicycle were the focal point, so that’s where I spent the most time. The cornfield could stay much looser. The path only needed enough variation and texture to suggest dirt and shadow. The dark sky could simply be dark.
That seems obvious when I write it out, but it was actually a useful realization for me.
I’ve sometimes gravitated toward simpler compositions because I’ve assumed they would be easier to paint. What I’m learning is that simple and easy aren’t necessarily the same thing.
An isolated object with crisp edges and precise proportions can be incredibly unforgiving. When there are only a few elements in a painting, every shape and every line carries more weight.
A scene like Midnight Pedaler gives me something different. I can suggest. I can layer. I can leave some areas loose and put more detail into others. Texture and imperfect brushstrokes can become part of the painting instead of something I need to correct.
Learning to work in layers
Midnight Pedaler also reinforced something I’ve been learning about gouache itself: I don’t have to finish an area the first time I paint it.
I’ve gotten much more comfortable putting down a base layer and letting it look unfinished. Once it’s completely dry, I can come back and add another layer for shadows, texture or highlights. Each layer can do one job instead of trying to get the color, value and detail exactly right in a single pass.
That has made a big difference in the way I paint.
Gouache can reactivate when it gets wet again, and I’ve learned that the more I fuss with an area, the more likely I am to start lifting and mixing the paint underneath. That’s usually when colors get muddy and something that was almost working suddenly isn’t.
I’m learning to make a deliberate stroke and leave it alone.
If it isn’t quite right, I don’t necessarily have to fix it right then. I can let it dry and come back to it later. Sometimes I even leave a layer overnight before working over it again.
And I’m also learning that I don’t always want to completely cover what came before. Bits of an earlier color showing through can create texture and variation that I wouldn’t get if every area were perfectly smooth and opaque.
I’m becoming more comfortable with imperfections that are simply part of something being painted by hand. The moon in Midnight Pedaler, for example, is definitely not a perfect circle. I could have kept working at it, trying to make the edges more precise, but I decided not to. It’s a hand-painted moon. It doesn’t need to be mathematically perfect.
I think those little imperfections matter, especially now, when we’re surrounded by digitally created and AI-generated images that can make everything perfectly smooth, symmetrical and polished. I don’t want my paintings to look computer generated. I want them to look like someone actually painted them. Sometimes an uneven edge, a visible brushstroke or a bit of texture is part of what makes a piece feel real.
With Midnight Pedaler, that approach worked particularly well. The cornfield didn’t need to be painted stalk by stalk to completion. I could build it through layers of darker browns, ochres and lighter marks. The skeleton could begin as broader light shapes and gain definition later. The bicycle could be constructed a piece at a time. Highlights and small details could wait until the underlying paint was dry.
Instead of asking myself, “How am I going to paint all of this?” I could just ask, “What does this layer need to do?”
That may be one of the most useful things gouache has taught me so far.
The finished painting
SZN-012
Midnight Pedaler took me several days to finish, so I’m certainly not claiming that detailed paintings are suddenly quick or effortless.
But it changed the way I think about what is difficult.
I don’t necessarily need to avoid a painting because it has a lot going on. In fact, I’m realizing that atmospheric scenes with layers, texture and selective detail may be a particularly good fit for the way I naturally paint. I can break a complicated scene into smaller pieces, let each layer do its job, and put the most attention where I want the viewer to look.
I still love quieter compositions and plenty of negative space. I don’t think that’s going anywhere. But I’m also giving myself permission to try ideas I might previously have dismissed as too complicated.
Sometimes it’s easier for me to paint a whole cornfield, a skeleton and an antique bicycle than it is to paint one simple object perfectly.
And I’m okay with that.
Midnight Pedaler is a 5 x 7 original gouache painting and part of my Seasonal Collection. You can see it, along with my other seasonal artwork, here.
