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.

Allegorical Expressionism: Naming the Unnameable

Painted by Joshua Adam Risner

Allegorical Expressionism: Naming the Ineffable

Painted by Joshua Adam Risner

I rarely start a piece knowing its true impetus; instead, I’ve found that painting is an archaeology of the unseen. For years, I struggled to find a category that fit this process, but I’ve recently come to define it as Allegorical Expressionism. This is not a marriage of disparate styles, but a singular, unified philosophy. To me, a painting is not an illustration. It is a vessel for the complexity of experience—a thing in flux that points far beyond the physical boundaries of the linen.

The Allusive Vessel

I don’t treat allegory as a closed code, a didactic puzzle, or a predetermined map. I view it as an open-ended pointing. It is a vessel that carries an idea into the viewer's space but refuses to provide a final destination. You can explore more of this specific narrative work in my Allegory gallery.

This refusal reflects the creative life itself. Because the artist is in constant flux, the work must remain fluid. The allegory is the horizon—a shifting boundary that moves with the artist and the viewer. At its best, it is a state of becoming rather than static knowing. I’m not suggesting that knowledge is purely subjective, but rather that truth is so vast it has the capacity to grow along with us.

Thinking out Loud

Painted by Joshua Adam Risner

If the allegory is the horizon, Expressionism is the grit of the navigation. It is the "raw working it out" on the canvas—a metabolic process where content and material collide. This isn't about stylistic distortion; it is the visible record of the struggle to manifest an idea. Not every artist works this way. Allegorical Expressionism is for those of us who think out loud.

My technique is eclectic by necessity. I operate under a mandate: by whatever means necessary. I am not tethered to a single school or a rigid tradition. I will use a 19th-century glaze alongside a squeegee or sandpaper if that’s what the content demands. The "expression" is the friction of the search—the map-making that happens in the heat of the process. It is the act of throwing paint onto a surface to reflect, analyze, and react.

The Pursuit Beyond the Paint

Tonalism is the philosophical connective tissue here. It’s more than a technique of soft edges; it is a pursuit of content that exists beyond the paint. I invite you to see how this atmosphere takes form in my Tonalist Gallery. The atmospheric "haze" is the physical manifestation of the allusion. It is the space where the literal ends and the infinite begins—where the moving of time is transmitted through a static art.

An Allegorical Expressionist painting is never a static object. It is alive. It is the trace of an artist using every tool in his arsenal to build a bridge toward the ineffable.

Painted by Joshua Adam Risner

I am documenting a life in motion, using the canvas to point toward a truth that is always "more than what it was the moment before."

The allegory is the what; the expressionism is the how.

This archaeology, however, is not a passive process. It requires what Rowan Williams describes as the "labor of attention."

To stand before the ineffable long enough to translate it into paint requires a specific kind of endurance—a willingness to stay present even when the subject refuses to sit still. In the coming weeks, I’ll be sharing how Williams’ ideas on attention have begun to ground my time at the easel. We’ll look at how the "labor" of the search is more than just technique; it is a way of honoring the world by refusing to look away.

The allegory is the what; the expressionism is the how. But the attention—that is the why.