Finished? Unfinished? The Art of Knowing When to Stop

Sometimes the bravest brushstroke is the one you don't make.

There are six new flower paintings, all framed and out in the world. Flowers. No Apologies. Fluorescent colours, unruly shapes and an awful lot of pleasure in making them. For me, painting flowers is really an exercise in abstraction: colour, line, design and feeling, with endless opportunities to play.

They've been released directly through my website this time, rather than through a gallery. You can see the collection among my original paintings at https://www.helenelliott.net/paintings.

A full week, and a little autumn breathing space

It's been one of those weeks when there has been rather more life than painting. I helped my daughter Chloe hang her exhibition at Oriel Card Bach in Cardigan. Her paintings are full of character, mysticism and folklore, and I couldn't be prouder. If you're nearby, do go and see them.

I did manage some morning walks with Albert. Autumn has been doing its glorious thing: leaves coming down, ancient stonework revealing itself again, and intriguing carvings emerging on the castle walls. I also spotted a beautifully marked blackbird and found myself wondering about its age and health. If you know your blackbirds, there's a question for you in the video.

The painting that's been finished for a year

Back in my Yorkshire studio, I found a painting that's been hanging on the wall for about a year. Every time I come back I ask the same questions. Is it finished? Isn't it finished? What should I do next?

This time, looking at it after a few weeks away, I realised something wonderfully simple. I love it exactly as it is. So perhaps the answer is that it's finished, and has been for quite some time. I just hadn't given it permission.

Other paintings are still waiting. One has a beauty in its bones that I don't want to lose by fussing with it. It's staying on the wall for a good coat of thinking about. Not every painting needs another brushstroke simply because there's a brush within reach.

No perfection. No finishing line.

I have a reminder on my studio wall: there is no perfection, no goal. Slow down. Enjoy the process. We can become so intent on the finished thing that we miss the extraordinary pleasure of making it.

There are other reminders too. A print of a painting by Emily Powell, whose exuberant colour I adore; the original hangs beside my bed. And work by Rosemary Vanns, whose pared-back black and white palette I find just as beautiful. Maximalism on one side, minimalism on the other. Apparently I'm quite happy to be pulled in both directions.

Claim a corner. Leave the paints out.

One of the best things about coming back to this studio is finding the materials waiting for me. Paints, brushes, crayons, paper, half-finished pictures. They invite me straight back in.

I know not everyone has a whole room to call a studio. But if you can claim even a small corner where your materials can stay out between sessions, do. That visible invitation to begin again matters more than we sometimes realise.

As the season turns towards winter, we've also been gathering as a family, lighting candles and making a little warmth and light of our own. It's a good time to slow down, look again, and perhaps leave a perfectly good painting alone.

Watch the studio vlog here:

Browse my original paintings: https://www.helenelliott.net/paintings