Why Every Artist Needs Their “Bird Painting”

Balancing the unknown expectations of a professional artist.

In the studio: Rabbit Hill

As an artist, the public often sees the finished product—the polished, confident strokes of a commission or the calculated precision of a gallery piece. What they don’t see is the weight behind the brush. There is a silent, heavy expectation that follows every professional artist: the expectations of clients, the critiques of peers, and the often suffocating standards we set for ourselves. It’s hard to hit the mark when the mark is elusive.

Even when an artist appears completely confident, the reality is that no one is truly fearless when they know they are about to put themselves on display in the form of a painting for all to see—the good, the bad, and the mediocre. Most of the time, I find that I am harder on myself than any client could ever be. To survive that pressure, I paint birds.

The Respite of the Perch

For me, a bird painting represents a respite. It is a space where the demand for precision falls away. When I am working on a bird, I am not answering to a brief or a deadline; I am breathing. It is a time to truly play with color, form, and texture—pushing palettes further than a client might allow and letting the paint be thick, messy, or ethereal just for the sake of the medium.

Detail: Respite in Color

The Connection to Icons

I’ve found a surprising parallel between these birds and the tradition of icon painting. In iconography, the burden of "originality" is removed. You aren't trying to reinvent the wheel; you are staying true to an essence. Precision in an icon isn't about technical perfection for the sake of ego—it’s about devotion and staying true to the spirit of the subject.

My bird paintings function the same way. They don’t need to be groundbreaking; they just need to be true.

The "Corner" Painting

I believe every painter needs their version of a bird painting—something that can sit in the corner of the studio for months. It doesn't demand to be finished. It waits patiently until you figure out exactly what it needs. While the challenges of client expectations and peer reviews are vital for our growth—pushing us to reach heights we wouldn't scale on our own—they must be balanced.

"We need the high-stakes work to grow, but we need the quiet work to stay in the moment."

Without the bird paintings, that self-criticism can become deafening. The "bird" allows for a calm and patient cadence. It’s a reminder that art can be a conversation with yourself rather than a performance for others.

We need the high-stakes work to grow, but we need the quiet work to stay in the moment.

So, if you’re a creator feeling the weight of the display, find your bird. Let it sit in the corner. Let it be the place where you simply breathe.