THE ART OF IMPERFECTION: WHY I LEAVE SKETCH LINES IN MY PAINTINGS
For years, I painted with the goal of perfection. Every detail had to be exact, every line clean and deliberate. Photorealism was my goal. The same in my years of practicing Architecture and striving for a minimalist perfection. It wasn’t just a technique—it was a reflection of my life at the time, constrained by the need to control everything around me.
But life isn’t perfect, and neither is art.
Today, my paintings embrace imperfection. I leave my sketch lines visible and use a palette knife instead of a brush. These choices weren’t random—they were deliberate decisions to break free from my old way of living.
For years, I painted with the goal of perfection. Every detail had to be exact, every line clean and deliberate. Photorealism was my goal. The same in my years of practicing Architecture and striving for a minimalist perfection. It wasn’t just a technique—it was a reflection of my life at the time, constrained by the need to control everything around me.
But life isn’t perfect, and neither is art.
Today, my paintings embrace imperfection. I leave my sketch lines visible and use a palette knife instead of a brush. These choices weren’t random—they were deliberate decisions to break free from my old way of living.
The visible sketch lines represent the process, the rawness of creation. Life isn’t about the polished final product; it’s about the journey, the layers, the revisions. The palette knife helps me avoid the temptation of perfection. It creates bold, unrefined strokes that remind me to let go, to trust that “good enough” can still be beautiful.
This shift wasn’t easy. Perfectionism had defined so much of my life, especially in my past career and marriage. But my horses—and my art—taught me to embrace the messiness of life, to let go of control, and to trust in the beauty of imperfection.
When you look at my paintings, I hope you see more than just the finished piece. I hope you see the journey. I hope they remind you that it’s okay to be raw, to be vulnerable, to be unfinished. Because that’s where the magic happens—in the imperfections, in the process, in the truth of who we are.