“Is that a tear in your eye?”

I’m sorry if I get all emotional on you right now… but this topic has been bouncing around in my head since yesterday.

I was chatting with another artist … one of those “just feel it, man” types … who told me I need to “open up and let my emotions flow onto the canvas.”

Well…

That’s never been my way. I’ve never sat down at the easel thinking, “Today, I shall pour my tortured heart out.” I sit down thinking, “Let’s paint something ...” Or “Let’s solve this color problem.” Or “I should’ve had that second cup of coffee before I started this.”

And yet … somehow … people tell me they can feel my emotion in my work.

I love hearing that. It’s flattering.

But here’s the truth: it’s not intentional.

I don’t paint thinking about baring my soul. I paint because I’m chasing beauty, balance, and that rush of solving the puzzle of a painting.

Maybe the emotions sneak in through the cracks … like sunlight through old shutters … without me even noticing. Maybe the way I move the brush, the colors I lean toward, or the subjects I’m drawn to … maybe that’s where the emotion hides.

I’m curious though…

What about you?

When you look at art … mine or anyone’s … do you feel something? Does it grab your heart? Does it stir a memory? Or do you just think, “Dang, those are some nice brushstrokes.”

Let’s be honest. There’s no right answer here. Art hits us all differently.

But if you have felt something from my work … just know, it wasn’t because I was crying into my palette.

(Though I have wept over bad color choices. That counts, right?)

Let me know your thoughts. You will not hurt my feelings!

A Little Side Note…

The artist who told me I needed to open up and let my emotions flow onto the canvas was actually an art agent I had working for me.

She eventually vanished, taking one of my paintings with her.

She later resurfaced in another state with new websites, Facebook accounts, photographs, and even magazine articles—all apparently created using AI to present an entirely different version of herself.

So, do I feel something?

Yes. I feel sad for her.

Not because she told me how I should express myself through my art, or even because of the painting she took.

I feel sad because, from what I've experienced, she seems so busy creating an artificial version of herself that I wonder if she has forgotten the value of simply being who she is.

And that brings me right back to the original point of this blog.

You don't have to manufacture emotion to create something meaningful. And you don't have to manufacture an identity to be someone worth knowing.