Painters of Charm

January 19, 2025


A large number of painters have recently shown me their works, and I can’t help but wonder: Why do they seem so intent on retracing my own artistic path? Why are they drawn to the old formulas of painting that have been established for centuries? The more I observe, the more I am struck by a troubling realization: almost all of them seem destined to become what I can only describe as "painters of charm," creating works that are technically proficient yet lack the raw vitality and authenticity that define truly groundbreaking art.

What I see in many of these young artists is a tendency to popularize the techniques of those who came before them. Their works often resemble the styles of earlier masters, mimicking their brushstrokes, compositions, and color palettes. In many cases, the very dealers who once rejected the originators of these styles are now encouraging their imitators. The public eye, it seems, has become accustomed to these familiar forms, and the market rewards them with validation and success.

But this is where the tragedy lies. The young artists I encounter are not truly asking the essential questions that could spark an artistic revolution. Instead, they’re posing artistic problems to themselves before those problems have even had a chance to emerge naturally. It's as if they’ve prematurely put themselves in a box, limiting their potential before they even begin. The vitality, the life force that should be pouring into their work, gets paralyzed by an overthinking that doesn’t allow them to be free.

By drawing upon memories, allusions, and established techniques, these young painters are attempting to solve problems they have created for themselves, and in doing so, they end up leaning on methods that have already proved their worth. But this "worth" is often the result of history, not innovation. It’s as though they are making artistic decisions based on a blueprint that has already been drawn, instead of listening to their own inner voice.

It’s painful to watch, because I see so much potential in them. But they stop themselves before they can truly blossom. It's the same as watching a tree that questions whether it should grow in a certain direction before it even begins to stretch its branches. Growth doesn’t come from asking "should I grow?"—it comes from simply allowing the tree to grow.

The essence of art, particularly for the young artist, is not about adhering to the rules. It’s not about mastering techniques for the sake of mastering them. A young artist must forget about "painting" altogether when they are painting. They must forget the history, forget the formulas, forget the expectations of dealers and audiences. Only then can they access the originality that resides in their bones. Only then can they truly create.

When I think back to the moments that shaped my own artistic path, I realize that I wasn’t trying to create problems for myself. I wasn’t overthinking what the world expected of me or adhering to a set of conventions. I simply painted from a place of instinct, of raw need to express something that was deeply personal. It wasn’t about impressing anyone; it wasn’t about solving artistic puzzles. It was about letting the work unfold naturally, and in doing so, pushing the boundaries of what painting could be.

Painters today are often overly concerned with the "why" and "how" of their work before they even start. They are so preoccupied with posing questions that they forget to live in the answer. This, in my view, is the great tragedy. Art should never be a problem to be solved. It should be a force to be felt. An artist must embrace the unknown, trust in their instincts, and allow the work to come from an untainted place of spontaneity.

I am not saying that technique is unimportant. Of course, mastery of one's medium is vital, but that mastery must come as a natural extension of the artist's voice, not as a calculated strategy to appease the audience or the market. The minute you begin to think about the rules, you are no longer free. You are no longer creating from the heart; you are simply repeating what has already been done.

To the young painters who seek to follow the paths of those who came before them, I urge you: do not stop in your tracks. Do not let the weight of history, tradition, or external expectations stifle your creative spirit. Let your brush move as though it has never moved before. Let your canvas be a space of exploration, not imitation. And most importantly, forget the rules. Only then will you find your true voice and create something that is entirely your own.

Let the tree grow freely. Let the artist paint with abandon. And in that freedom, a new horizon will emerge.