When I Paint Women, I Don’t Start With a Face, I Start With a Feeling

Today felt like one of those quiet, creative days. I didn’t have a plan, didn’t know what I was going to paint. I just sat down with my canvas, my brushes, and whatever colors felt right in the moment. Sometimes those are the best kinds of days, the ones where you don’t think too much and just let your hands do the talking.

I don’t usually start with a clear idea of what I supposed to draw. I don’t sit down thinking, I’m going to paint this kind of woman with this kind of story. Most of the time, I just paint how I feel that day and let the image form on its own.

That’s how this piece came to life.
I picked up pink first. When I painted it, I don't like the background to start with white. There wasn’t a deep reason behind it. I just felt drawn to it. Pink felt warm, emotional, and honest. Not the “perfect” kind of pink, but something deeper and a little messy. I layered it, brushed over it, added texture, and didn’t bother fixing the uneven parts. I’ve learned that sometimes the imperfections make a painting feel more real.

Her face came slowly. It wasn’t like I sketched everything out and followed a plan. I worked on the eyes first, then stepped back, then went back in again. I always spend the most time there. Eyes carry so much. They can be calm, tired, strong, or unsure all at once.

The freckles weren’t planned either. I added them almost without thinking. They made her feel more human to me. Less polished. Less “ideal.” Just real. I like those small details that don’t try too hard but somehow complete the whole thing.

The hair was probably the most freeing part. I didn’t want it neat or controlled. I let the brush move in thick, curved strokes, letting the colors blend and overlap. I didn’t try to tame it, and I think that matters. Women are often expected to be put together all the time, and I didn’t want that energy in this painting.

Then I added the flowers.
Flowers, for me, don’t always mean softness in a fragile way. They mean growth. They mean continuing on even when conditions aren’t perfect. In this painting, they sit around her gently, not overpowering her, just existing with her. I liked that balance. Strong, but still soft. Quiet, but not weak.

This painting isn’t about one specific woman. It’s about a feeling I think many women know. The feeling of carrying strength quietly. Of being gentle but grounded, existing without needing to explain yourself. It’s not loud. It doesn’t ask for attention. It just is.

I didn’t take progress photos while making this. No step by step shots, no neat documentation. I was just painting and taking few photos randomly to remind myself later on how it looked before I finished it. And honestly, I’m okay with that. Some creative moments feel better when you don’t pause to record them. When you’re just there, brush in hand, letting things happen.

If I painted this again, it wouldn’t look the same. And I think that’s fine. Paintings that come from emotion don’t need to be repeated perfectly. They belong to the moment they were created in and that's what makes them rare.

When people ask why I paint women so often, this is usually the reason. Painting women allows me to paint feelings I don’t always know how to put into words. It’s like translating emotions into color, texture, and expression.
If you look at this piece and feel something, even if you can’t explain what it is, then it’s already doing its job.

Photos are all mine. The first photo is edited using CollageArt.