The Art of Distillation

MATERNITAS 2026: Distillation 12x24 Acrylic on Canvas for the 2026 Hainan Exhibit

Lately, I have been thinking deeply about distillation, not simply as a technique, but as a way of seeing.

My work begins with observation: flowers, movement, bodies, horses, nature, memories, emotions. But I am not interested in reproducing what I see exactly. I take away what is unnecessary until what remains feels essential.

This is where my paintings begin to become abstract.

For me, abstraction is not about making something unrecognizable. It is about distilling an experience into its most powerful elements, a feeling.

I remove details, but I amplify presence.

The brush allows me to build surfaces that feel almost physical, while color carries the emotional weight of the image. The mother may become only a shape.  A baby may become a movement. A animal may become an impression of energy rather than a literal animal.

I think of each painting as a process of reduction and intensification.

Less description. More essence.

This is the direction my practice is moving toward: taking the things that inspire me and transforming them until only their spirit remains.

Instead of adding more information, I remove it.

My Distillation Practice

1. Start with the subject.
Paint what I see or what I feel drawn to.

2. Identify the energy.
Is it movement? softness? tension? sensuality? growth? freedom? weight? rhythm?

3. Remove the literal details.
I ask myself: What can disappear without losing the feeling?

4. Amplify what remains.
A curve becomes larger. A gesture becomes stronger. A color becomes more deliberate. Texture becomes part of the meaning.

5. Make one unexpected decision.
Change the color. Crop the form. Eliminate the background. Exaggerate the movement. Let something become almost unrecognizable.

6. Step away.
I look at the painting from a distance and ask:

Does this still communicate the feeling without explaining the subject?

If the answer is yes, I have moved closer to distillation.

The Quantum Leap

The leap happens when I stop asking:

“How do I paint this thing?”

and start asking:

“What is the most essential expression of this thing?”

That shift changes everything.

A flower no longer has to be a flower.
A horse no longer has to look like a horse.
A body no longer has to be anatomically complete.

The subject becomes a starting point.

The painting becomes the distilled experience.