No Varnish
October 16, 2025
There’s something quietly beautiful about a painting left unvarnished, untouched after that final brushstroke has dried. I’ve always been drawn to the soft, velvety finish of dry oil paint, its matte surface absorbing light rather than reflecting it, allowing the viewer to meet the work directly, without interruption. It feels honest, immediate, almost tender in the way it reveals the texture of the brushwork and the raw presence of the pigment. It’s not trying to shine or impress, it’s simply there, breathing quietly on the canvas.
Of course, varnish has its purpose. It protects. It seals the surface against moisture, shields it from dust and UV light, and can unify the sheen of a painting that may have dried unevenly. It’s a safeguard, a final layer of care. But for me, it also places something between the viewer and the work. That thin, glossy film might enhance color or depth for some, but for others, including myself, it flattens the image in a way that dulls the intimacy. It catches the light, sometimes in all the wrong places, pulling the eye away from where it was meant to rest. The painting begins to reflect the room, the world outside, instead of standing confidently in its own skin.
There’s a purity in an unvarnished painting, a sense that what you’re seeing is exactly as it was when the artist stepped away, no gloss, no filter, no final polish to soften the rough edges or highlight the best angles. Just the work, as it is. There’s integrity in that choice, a kind of quiet defiance. It says the painting doesn’t need to be dressed up to be complete.
So for me, the answer has always been clear. No varnish. Not out of rebellion, but out of respect, for the material, for the process, and for the viewer’s experience. I want the surface to feel alive, open, vulnerable even. I want you to see every brushstroke for what it is, without the gleam of protection muting its truth. Because sometimes, the most powerful statement a painting can make is to stand exactly as it is, unvarnished, unapologetic, and utterly itself.
The Christopher Mudgett archive collection is the only one in the world to present the artist’s up-to-date painted, sculpted, engraved and illustrated œuvre and a precise record—through sketches, studies, drafts, notebooks, photos, books, films and documents—of the creative process.

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