From Figurative to Abstract: Lifting Up My Hot-Air Balloon

The sky outside is white, just like the page I’m trying to fill. I want to tell the story of my life in the painting studio, but words struggle to keep up.
Maybe that’s a good thing—it’s what led me to focus on painting from an early age.

Tick, tick, tick. I know, rain doesn’t tick, but now it’s pouring down like a rush of water from the ocean. I wonder—what color is the sound of rain against the window? And how do you draw nostalgia, or the warmth of a cup of tea on a cloudy day?

When I first started painting, I wanted to capture exactly that—my inner world, the shades of emotions, especially the brightest ones. I wanted to express the peace of a sunlit winter afternoon, the golden light of a summer sunset, the warmth of a fire in the night as the leaves begin to fall.
I wanted to paint harmony—of nature, of myself, or maybe of myself when I lose myself in nature.

To do that, I started with the “what” in order to find the “how.” Figurative painting was my foundation: composition, tonal values, light, and color. I was fascinated by the way light “fell” on things—flowers, people, animals. The outside reflected the inside.

Some previous figurative works

And yet, it wasn’t enough. I felt like I wanted to say more. Sticking too closely to reality began to feel heavy, like carrying a child in my arms instead of walking hand in hand.

So, I did something completely out of character: I let go of control (help!) and allowed myself to follow joy. I watched as textures appeared, colors shifted, and shapes emerged—shapes that sparked my curiosity and, for reasons I couldn’t explain, captured my heart.

And then, disaster struck. My figures began to break apart, losing their solidity.
I think that’s how I arrived at abstract art—guided by feeling. I gave myself permission to start over. With plenty of doubts, I left behind familiar ground and set off on a new journey.

In the process, looking for texture and shapes...

Along the way, I felt everything: excitement, worry (what if it’s terrible?), curiosity, a hunger to learn. And of course, there were outside opinions: “It’s just scribbles!” “I could do that too!”
But setting off toward a new, deeply personal destination—one only we might see—is always an act of courage. It takes a bit of strength and a bit of lightness, like a hot air balloon releasing its weights and rising into the blue.

Do you know this feeling? Let me know in the comments!

A big hug, Laura

Abstract exploration