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Trust the Mark: What Happens When You Stop Trying to Know the Ending

There is a moment that happens almost every

time I paint.

Showing 8 wooden canvas cradles arranged as if they were 1 painting, with various marks in charcoal, white, and green paint has been applied as the beginning.
and so it began

I make a mark.

Then I look at it.

And somewhere in that tiny space between the mark I

just made and the one I haven't made yet,

my brain would very much like to take over.



Was that the right color?

Did I put it in the right place?

Should I cover it?

Did I just ruin the whole thing?

If you create anything at all, you probably know that voice.

For a long time, I thought becoming a more confident artist would mean eventually knowing exactly what to do next.

Instead, I'm learning something very different.

Confidence isn't always knowing.

Sometimes confidence is simply being willing to make the next mark.

That idea eventually became Trust the Mark.



One Mark, Then Trust the Next

Trust the Mark started with a very simple idea:

Make one mark. Then trust the next.

Not because every mark will be beautiful.

Not because every decision will turn out exactly the way you hoped.

And certainly not because you can't change your mind.

You can paint over something. Wipe something away. Turn the canvas. Add another layer. Cover half of what you just did.

Shown here are the same 8 wooden cradles, but with more steps added. More marks in a burnt sienna color.
Next steps underway, they are still finding there way.

I do all of those things.

Trusting the mark doesn't mean becoming attached to every decision you make.

It means trusting yourself enough to respond to what is actually happening instead of constantly trying to force the painting toward some imaginary perfect ending.

That's a very different way of working.

And for me, it has become a very different way of thinking about creativity.







The Painting Doesn't Need to Tell You Everything at Once

I've always been drawn to intuitive painting.

I love beginning without having every decision mapped out. I love layers, unexpected marks, strange little accidents, and those moments when something begins appearing that I could never have planned.

But I've also learned that intuitive painting isn't simply doing whatever you want whenever you want.

Abstract mixed-media painting with sweeping deep green brushstrokes, including a large curved loop, layered over soft cream, gray, yellow, and violet areas with textured marks and scattered reddish-brown accents.
I am now working on these as idividual paintings, and now considering each for composition, value, eye movement and focal point.

There is a lot of noticing involved.

You begin somewhere.

You move with curiosity.

You notice what's emerging.

You follow something that interests you.

And eventually, you have to start asking different questions.

What does this painting need?

What's distracting me?

Where is my eye going?

What wants to stay?

What needs to quiet down?

What happens if I leave this alone?




That process became the foundation for the Trust the Mark cards I created.


Deck of 52 brightly colored cards lying on a canvas with scribble marks in the background.

The 52 prompts move through ideas like Begin Anywhere, Move with Curiosity, Notice What's Emerging, Trust and Follow, Let It Be, and finally Take It Further.

And that order matters.

Because creativity isn't only about starting.

It is also about learning how to stay in conversation with what you're making.



Trust Doesn't Mean Carelessness

This may be one of the most important things I've learned.

Abstract mixed-media painting with sweeping deep green brushstrokes, including a large curved loop, layered over soft cream, gray, yellow, and violet areas with textured marks and scattered reddish-brown accents.
As I continue to trust mysef, I strengthened the contract of the greens, violet, and yellow.

Trusting yourself creatively does not mean you stop learning.

Actually, I think the opposite is true.

The more I learn about composition, value, visual weight, color, focal points, gesture, and all the other things that make a painting work, the more interesting Trust the Mark becomes to me.

Knowledge gives me more things to notice.

But knowledge doesn't have to become a cage.

I can understand composition and still allow a painting to surprise me.

I can study value and still make an unexpected color choice.

I can recognize that something isn't working without deciding that I failed.

I can change direction.

That last one is a big one.

Artists change direction all the time.

Sometimes a painting becomes something completely different from what we thought we were making.

Sometimes we paint over half of it.

Sometimes the part we almost covered becomes the very thing that makes the painting interesting.

The goal isn't to make every mark permanent.

The goal is to stay curious long enough to discover where those marks might lead.



The Hardest Part May Be Leaving Something Alone

Making a mark takes courage.

Leaving one alone can take even more.

There are times when I look at a painting and immediately start searching for something else to do to it.

Abstract painting with a large dark green arch over layered yellow, cream, and muted violet, crossed by a broad sweep of deep purple and green. Loose black scribble marks, textured brushwork, and small raised dots add movement and surface detail.
Now it feels resolved and ble to stand on it's own.

Another line.

Another color.

Another layer.

Just one more little something.

And sometimes the most important creative decision is:

Don't touch it.

Let it sit.

Walk away.

Come back tomorrow.

Notice what you're responding to before you start fixing things that may not actually need fixing.

Trust the Mark includes that too.

Trusting the mark means trusting yourself enough to act.

But it also means trusting yourself enough to stop.



This Isn't Really Just About Painting

The longer I work with this idea, the more I realize that Trust the Mark isn't only about art.

It's about that very human desire to know the outcome before we're willing to begin.

We want proof that the idea will work.

We want reassurance that we're making the right decision.

We want to see the finished painting before we put down the first color.

Creativity doesn't usually work that way.

You get the next step.

Sometimes you don't even get that until you take the first one.

And perhaps that's part of what making art can teach us.

We don't have to know everything before we begin.

We can make a choice.

Pay attention.

Respond.

Change direction when we need to.

And trust ourselves enough to continue.

One mark.

Then the next.

Then the next.

Until one day we step back and realize we've made something we never could have planned from the beginning.

That, for me, is Trust the Mark.

And I'm still learning how to do it.



Stay Connected with Trust the Mark

Trust the Mark is continuing to grow, from the 52-card prompt deck to new Trust the Mark classes coming this fall. If you'd like to be the first to hear about upcoming classes, new creative offerings, and everything developing around Trust the Mark, make sure you're signed up for my email list.



 
 
 

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